Trips to the Coffee Shop

I love going to coffee shops. Partially because it's easier to do work on a large table that doesn't contain a stack of books that you want to read and boxes of makeup and all of your crafting supplies. But, what I really love about trips to the coffee shop is that, after you've read that article you were assigned or when you need a break from your book, or if you're just bored with your homework, you can look around and watch people.

I've said before that I like looking around coffee shops and seeing how beautiful people are. And that's true. Today, for example, there is a slender woman with brown hair pulled into a slender ponytail, there's a man with short hair and a beard and the most shapely booty I've ever seen on a dude, and there's a quiet woman with beautiful carmel-colored skin who is engrossed in her book. Seriously, man, people are so beautiful.

But I also play internal games as I people watch. For example, on any given trip to the coffee shop, you can find a person enter, sit down, and fidget until they are joined by another person. Whenever I see these pairs I play a little game with myself. "Is this an internet dating meet-up? Is this an interview? Or is this a religious mentoring pair/prayer buddies?" You eavesdrop a bit--are they talking about their jobs? their families? their schooling? our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ? You kind of inspect them--are they about the same age? do either of them have wedding/engagement rings? how/do they touch one another?

Similarly, whenever I see two attractive men I play a game called "Are they boyfriends or brothers?"

I like watching the way people wait for other people. Today, for example, a man sat down at a nearby table and got out a little book. At first I thought said book was a bible--that would have played a factor into my "what sort of pair is this pair?" game--but it turned out to be a planner. He wrote down a couple of things and then shut the book. For a moment I wondered if he, like me, was avoiding his work. He had two different beverages--one that he guzzled down pretty quickly. Eventually, a woman showed up and said, "Can I get you anything?" to which he responded, "No! I've already got a drink," as he cleaned off the tabletop.

Around the same time fella #1 sat down, fella #2 was sitting down across the room. He spread out, maybe because he was nervous. His feet seemed to repel one another and his arms hung loosely, widening his body. A friend told me, once, that if you need to feel braver you should try to take up more space. I guess it's a psychological thing. Maybe that's what he was trying to do. Or maybe he was just bored and adopting the posture of an adolescent male. Eventually, a small woman with curly brown hair arrived. She looked at least ten years his seior. As soon as she arrived, the man straightened up and narrowed his posture. More polite? Less intimidating?

I like watching the way people work, too. Some of them work with such dedication. Today, there's a girl in a striped hoodie who hasn't looked up from her work. Her pen has not ceased dancing across a piece of paper. Then there's a business man--sports jacket and button down shirt--working on a laptop with a glower. So far, I've only seen him get distracted by the mother and daughter pair to his left. And then there's a man--about in his thirties--who works the same way I do. His laptop is open, his book is out, but he's reading a news paper and checking his phone.

That's the thing about people. Sometimes they're just doing boring things, but they're still so interesting to watch. And sometimes, when I sit here, watching people around the coffee shop, I wonder if there's anyone watching me. And I wonder what they think about my movements, my clothes, and my focus (or lack there of). I wonder if I look lonely--like I've been stood up, or maybe I'm new to the area. Maybe I look like I'm waiting for someone, because I keep watching the line in front of the cash register grow and dwindle and grow again. Maybe I look nervous, or tired, or like I'm avoiding work. Which I am.