Taylor, the Latte Boy

I had no idea that “I’m going for coffee” was actually a euphemism for “I’m attending the fastest speed dating event on earth while wildly hopped up on caffeine.” But it does appear to be the case. Was this always true? I mean, back in the day when coffee meant black, or with milk, and cost a quarter, was it still a possible mating event?

You must admit, the drink orders alone sound like elaborate foreplay. I have a theory that the more convoluted the order, the more desirable you are. Why else would people go to so much trouble? While ordering a half caf, half decaf double latte extra foam probably wins you some appreciative looks (perhaps even a wink and a nod), will you actually get a phone number after ordering a half caf, half decaf venti nonfat extra hot latte with one shot of hazelnut and four shots of chocolate with extra foam? (I actually have no idea what that means, but I read a variation of that on Naked and Ashamed, and it sounded hot). Can’t you practically hear the sighs? I used to think it was impatient people bothered by the intricate order, but in fact, those are sighs of desire. If you have the dexterity, try adding a hair flip and a giggle at the end—but stay clear of the swoon, or you might spill the drink you’ve just worked so hard to obtain.

On the other hand, you could risk becoming a social pariah if you order a small black coffee. Try it—the confusion mixed with disappointment resembles the look on a guy’s face the first time he encounters a wonder bra.

Does being a member of the Barista Guild automatically elevate you to playmate status for the caffeine obsessed? I was rethinking my current career anyway.

Doing some simple math, I came up with the following equation: single men drinking coffee + Starbucks/Coffee Bean on every corner = places Kate should visit. So, I combed my hair (yep, I go all out on the primping thing), and I decided to take a stroll. After all, according to my new theory, true love is literally just around the corner.

I did an initial oh-so-subtle “walk by” on my way to the shop to get the lay of the land (uh… so to speak). After picking up the requisite supplies (more Haagen-Dazs), I wandered back for a more thorough examination.

And there he was.

Tall. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Business clothes.

He had a grande and a laptop.

Our eyes met. I smiled. The soundtrack in my mind swelled.


I kept walking. Didn’t even slow down.


Not right? I missed a step somewhere, didn’t I? Shit. Looks like I’ll be spending quite a bit of time at Starbucks in the future.

If only I liked coffee.

Kate, Dating in LA (katedating@yahoo.com)

“So many years my heart has waited
Who’d have thought that love could be so caffeinated!
Taylor, the latte boy.
I love him. I love him. I love him.”
Taylor, the Latte Boy by Marcy Heisler and Zina Goldrich.

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