All posts tagged: coffee

Chucky Cheese Might Be a Nice Alternative

My brother and I had a rather phenomenal tree house when we were growing up.  It had three levels complete with a sandbox underneath, a bright yellow slide, three ladders and a professional-grade trapeze set.  (At least I’m pretty sure it was professional grade; we performed some pretty amazing acrobatic routines.) My dad built it himself and we used to drag the garden hose up to the first level for our birthdays to make an official “water slide” in the backyard.  Of course, with a three-level tree house, the likelihood of unsuspecting toddlers plummeting to their deaths is greatly increased so my parents had a rule: if you couldn’t get into the tree house by yourself, then you were too young to play in it. There were three ways in: a wooden ladder next to the slide for beginners, a rope latter on the other side for intermediate climbers and finally a super-scary medieval torture device that led straight to the third-floor penthouse.  (It consisted of a single strand of rope with little rope loops …

Have Coffee, Will Conference

Later this month, because I’m every bit at schizophrenic in my approach to professional development as I am in my approach to men, I’m taking some time “off” to deliver a paper at the annual conference of the Congress on Research in Dance. (And just in case that’s not geeky enough, the conference is co-sponsored by the Society for Ethnomusicology this year.  Also, rest assured: the dating talk will resume on Monday, especially as I’ll be seeing The Wedding Date in less than week [!] but in the meantime, I needed a quick break from all this talk of emotional polygamy.) I’m particularly excited about this conference, not because I have any great confidence in the paper I’m to deliver (it has yet to… materialize) but because three of my favorite professors are also presenting and they’ll be arriving from London in less than two weeks. I received an email from one asking if there was anything in particular I would like her to bring from the UK. Would I ever! The British Isles aren’t …

It Would Seem as Though I’ve Been Stood Up

Judging by the contents of my table at the coffee shop, I’ve been stood up.  This is because there are two iced drinks at my table: an iced chai with soy milk (my all-time favorite this time of year)* and an iced latte (also with soy milk, although not nearly as good as the chai). Why do I have two drinks?  I wish I could say it was something dramatic—something like having been stood up—but the truth isn’t nearly as interesting.   The barrista simply heard my order incorrectly and thought I’d asked for a soy latte instead of a chai latter with soy milk. Usually I don’t make a fuss when this sort of thing happens; I’ve worked retail and I never, EVER want to be the sort of problem customer who I used to rant about when I worked at The Shop. But it’s hot. So hot that the Philly schools closed early two days in a row last week. I want my iced drink. And I want the iced drink I ordered. So …

Breakfast in Bed… With the Ex

For dramatic effect, I would say that I can’t remember the last time I woke up in bed with a man who could be bothered to make me a cup of coffee in the morning. But I can remember. I remember the exact date, the exact circumstances that led to our waking up together, the exact extent of what we did and did not do; I remember exactly what I was wearing (an outfit carefully calculated to remind the unfortunate fellow just how much he had cared for me before I decided to call it quits).  I remember the moment his face emerged from the crowd at the Covent Garden tube station, a wintry mix of resignation and regret. Lastly, I remember our final goodbye, a few hours later, halfway to Paddington Station on the Hammersmith and City Line, and I remember asking him to call me—for the sake of “closure”— one last time before I boarded my flight back to Philadelphia. He did not.  Instead, he sent an email to explain that he “would …

Thoughts for Thursday: Please Shut Up!

For the past few months, I’ve been searching for the perfect coffee shop to make my own.  Today my search has taken me, once again, to Chapterhouse on 9th and Bainbridge.  I first visited Chapterhouse with Date #3 back in the early days of my Match.com career.  It was then that I noticed Chapterhouse comprises a veritable wunderkabinett of good looking individuals. Seeing as I was on a date at the time, I was forced to focus on my iced coffee and the med student who had paid for it, as opposed to the other, better looking med students who were hunched over their books in the next room, but I made a mental note to return at a later date—on my own. In truth, I forgot about Chapterhouse for a while and since it’s been so cold for the past few months, I’ve limited my coffee shop explorations to a seven block radius.  But now that the spring is just around the corner (well maybe not “just” around the corner, but it’s out there …

The Mystery Man Revealed

I know what you’re all wondering.  After reading about the careful construction of my thirtieth date outfit, my discussion of Austen over pancakes and my decision to accompany my evidently enlightened mystery man for a stroll through The Piazza, you’re just dying to know, “But what about your thoughts on the history of tap dancing and its connection to American race relations?” I know, it’s a pretty fascinating topic if I do say so myself.  So fascinating, in fact, that I responded to a call for papers four months ago and submitted a proposal to write 10,000 words on the subject.  My proposal was accepted (fabulous!) but to date, I’ve written less than 3,000 words (not so fabulous).  I’d blame my dating habits, but really it’s the blogging about my dating habits that’s the real problem.  I’ve become incapable of constructing a complete sentence that doesn’t somehow include the words “martini,” “the Man from Marshalls” or “Match.com.” Having written a 20,000 word MA dissertation, I know how to do academic writing.  All you need is …

Thirtieth Time’s a Charm, Part Duex

And so to continue with my thirtieth date: although I’d be much fonder of brunch if it was socially acceptable to drink raspberry chocolate martinis at 11:00am, the menu at Honey’s proved to be more than tolerable.  After some deliberation, we both selected the whole wheat berry granola pancakes and, in accordance with acceptable Saturday morning beverage conventions, two cups of coffee. Secretly, I’d hoped he’d order the pumpkin and maple syrup pancakes, thereby giving me an excuse to sample the less-than-healthy fare without compromising my complex-carbohydrate loyalties.  His chivalry in this regard, however, was most lacking. As the waitress poured our coffees, we talked of literature and religion, managing to skirt around the more controversial disputes of our age, but finding ourselves in actual agreement on several key issues.  And despite my unfortunate preference for hair products over Harper’s Magazine and the rest of the high brow publications meant to improve one’s chances of making intelligent conversation, I found myself able to keep up, and, more importantly, actually enjoying myself. When our pancakes arrived, …

A Familiar Feeling

The morning after Date #17 takes me for dinner in Center City, I awake with a familiar feeling.  Being that it’s been some time since I’ve been on a first date, however—let alone a first date to a Steven Starr restaurant—I can’t quite place it. Is it a crush?  Date #17 is awfully cute—much cuter than his Match.com profile would suggest, actually.  As I step into the lounge at Alma de Cuba and notice a rather well dressed businessman seated alone at the bar, with a glass of cabernet sauvignon and an obvious first date demeanor, I realize that Date #17’s profile picture does not do him justice.  Being the benevolent dating guru that I am, I consider advising him to change it, but then I realize that if he does, all of the other girls on Match.com will find him and I’m not that benevolent.  I’d rather keep this undiscovered diamond in the rough to myself. So yes, it could be a crush that I’m feeling. But it could also be that peculiar brand …