French for Past (Short Story circa May 18, 2008)

August 1, 2011

All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will
You want me too
All I wanna do is make love to you
I’ve got lovin arms to hold on to
Here.

Where coffee is to be enjoyed with a company. 

Ideally.

Yet, now, it’s a lot different. Coffee is my company. I’m sitting here alone and the best that I can do for my contribution to social interaction is my second hand smoke. Who was that who said coffee and cigarette is best described by an oxymoron – it’s a calming rush!

There’s a drizzle that hesitates to come out to a full-blown rain. Outside Starbucks, music plays and it somehow blends well with the swish of cars passing by. At half past 11, I should be drinking beer instead of taking a 15 minute break.

I look around and I see people needing something to agree on and people who simply miss the point. The first kind is always a group of people needing coffee as a means of transaction. Whether it is business or banter on just about anything, coffee levels them all. The second kind – coffee is best enjoyed with a conversation. And there they are, with a laptop, surfing the Net. They sorely miss the point.

Yet, I am here. Alone. So, I’m a fence-sitter then. Or possibly just a plain loser. I spent for something expensive and yet I missed the point. I don’t even have a laptop.

Un.

“Here.”

“There you are. Why didn’t you just tell me earlier you’re going out for coffee? I could have dropped everything I was doing.”

“You were busy.”

“Yeah. But thanks for texting me that you’re here.”

“Well, I thought I could do this alone.”

“Do what alone?”

“Coffee.”

“Well, can’t we go inside? Why are we outside Starbucks?”

“I’m smoking.”

“If I am your lover I won’t be kissing you.”

“And you’re not.”

 

There’s a drizzle that hesitates to come out to a full-blown rain.

I’m no longer enjoying this. What’s worse than being alone is my over-analyzing brain asking why. Funny but I’d like to think I’m paid to have the answers for troubles at work. Yet here I am sitting silently, clueless like a 16 year old pre-first love phase!

Ah to be young. I once heard my aunt say idle hands are the workshop of the devil. So my cousin and I would always busy ourselves by jacking off daily.

Deux.

“Drizzle. Coffee. Talk. Elements of romance that leads to sex. Romantic, isn’t it?”

“You’re making it sound more erotic than romantic.”

“So you’re turned on?”

“LOL.”

“LOL? Seriously, LOL? I can’t believe you had to say LOL instead of actually laughing out loud.”

“Well, that’s the first thing that came out of my mouth!”

“Let’s play word association.”

“Nerd.”

“What?”

“I’m already playing. Word association is for nerds.”

“Then, over-sexed.”

“You.” 

“Hot.” 

“Not.” (Laughter.) 

Who was that who said coffee and cigarette is best described by an oxymoron – it’s a calming rush!

We could have been a pair out of a movie – but the Turkish version of Star Wars sort. Our scenes couldn’t really match but it was spliced together just the same. Or was I just forcing it? Liking a person is no different from asking for coffee here in Starbucks. You couldn’t really be straightforward as it’s full of variations.  

There’s a question I’ve never asked myself since I became single again. “So I bide my time?”

And try to find out if liking is a two-way process for us?  

 

Trois.

“Guess how old I am.”

“24?”

“Ouch. I’m only 22.”

“Oh. Guess I added the two years I wanted to spend with you.”

(Smile.)

 
Our scenes couldn’t really match but it was spliced together just the same.

At some point, it was like a chat between two men standing next to each other peeing on a common urinal. It was so guarded. That it was really awkward.

That’s why I envy women. They can be brutally frank and still maintain a sense of nonchalance.
So it wasn’t turning out the way I wanted it. I wanted to be liked. No. Actually, to be owned. Only then can I be good.
 

Quatre.

“Do you think it’ll stop drizzling real soon?” “I don’t think so. So… stop hoping for it.”

“Well, I’m optimistic. It’ll be sunny tomorrow.”

“Nah.”

“Why are you so grumpy?”

“I’m not.”

“ Well, I guess it’s part of my being idealistic. That’s the way I am.”

“I really don’t have a problem with idealistic people. It’s the ideas up their heads I’m worried about.”

“LOL.”

(Laughter.)
 
It was so guarded.

And I’m afraid there was nothing to prove anymore except the fact that this is but a conversation we’ll both forget. Or I’ll try to forget, at least for me. But there was nothing more to say at all. As soon as we both had coffee, the conversation that I was hoping for became pretty much like a conference – it was all about work.

Yes, I was talking. It was a conversation. In truth, you can let me talk with sense if it was something that I read on a book, learned from work, and applied as a decision at work or in life that gave me benefits.
 

Cinq.

“Hey, I have to get back to the office.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll be there in 20. I’ll probably take this as an early lunch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

(Silence.)

 “Bye.” “Bye.” 

All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will
You want me too
All I wanna do is make love to you
I’ve got lovin arms to hold on to

Here.

Where coffee is to be enjoyed with a company.

Ideally.

Yet, now, it’s a lot different. Coffee is my company. I’m sitting here alone and the best that I can do for my contribution to social interaction is my second hand smoke. Who was that who said coffee and cigarette is best described by an oxymoron – it’s a calming rush! There’s a drizzle that hesitates to come out to a full-blown rain. Outside Starbucks, music plays and it somehow blends well with the swish of cars passing by. At half past 11, I should be drinking beer instead of taking a 15 minute break.

I look around and I see people needing something to agree on and people who simply miss the point. The first kind is always a group of people needing coffee as a means of transaction. Whether it is business or banter on just about anything, coffee levels them all. The second kind – coffee is best enjoyed with a conversation. And there they are, with a laptop, surfing the Net. They sorely miss the point.

Yet, I am here. Alone. So, I’m a fence-sitter then. Or possibly just a plain loser. I spent for something expensive and yet I missed the point. I don’t even have a laptop.