I Do Terrible Things

Potential problem with picking up men at Starbucks . . .

While going to get my "fix" today, with paper in hand, discovered that golf guy was sitting near my usual table with his cronies. Now golf guy is nice . . . or I wouldn't have given him my phone number . . . but I didn't feel like talking to him today. Not after all the anti-semitic crap his friends threw around before he started talking to me.

And I keep getting ghost phone calls with no message, which I assume is golf guy. In my current attitude about men (which is not the best attitude I've had) or I should say people in general, I don't think I have time for people who don't leave messages . . . or are too afraid to leave messages . . . or whatever rationalizing BS we can come up with for the ghost phone calls.

So I turned on my heel. Thought about leaving, but I had coffee and a scone in my hand and for as much as I spend there, it might as well be my coffee shop. So went to the other side of the shop, stuck in the headphones in and made the best of it. I twitched every time someone picked up their coffee from the barista, thinking it might be an ambush. But read the whole paper, a couple of chapters in my book and finished my coffee. And wasn't noticed at all.

So I do terrible things . . . as if you didn't know this already.