I can't really function without a full cup of Joe in the morning. If I don't bathe my synapses in coffee, my brain continues to doze in its semi-comatose state, while the rest of me is not firing on all cylinders. I'm all cattywampus, struggling to focus and stay in the present. This, of course, is the exact moment when the Universe will choose to mock me with something from my recent past I'd rather conveniently forget. The Universe can be a merciless bitch, barely tolerable with lots of coffee, and simply insufferable without.
I had trouble executing routine basic drills I've been doing since I started kickboxing six years ago. Then the class focused on a difficult kick that requires excellent flexibility if you want to really look good doing it. There's not enough coffee at all the Starbucks in Seattle that could get me to do that kick well. And on a day I hadn't had more than a eyedropper of coffee, there was no way I was going to be able to do a decent kick. So naturally this is the moment I notice him, not more than four feet away from me. He's a bystander, waiting for class to be over so he can take his kid home, and a guy I went out with once.
It was a perfectly nice first date. There was nothing of the ridiculous that often makes an appearance at many of my first dates. It was easy to talk with him because we had a lot in common, and culturally he felt familiar--part of the NPR tribe. He seemed like someone with whom I could have developed a friendship, and perhaps a relationship. A few days later, he texted me saying he hoped we could go out again after I got back from a short trip. And I would have gone out with him again, except that about the same time, I ended up going on a first date with a guy I liked better -- the guy who is now my boyfriend. Instead of texting "Perfectly Nice" that, except for bad timing, I *would* have gone out with him again, I didn't text him at all. I didn't know how to make 'I had a nice time with you, but I don't want to go out with you again, because I had a better time with someone else' sound like less of a rejection, and more of an explanation along the lines of 'Oops! You're a nice guy -- it's just bad timing.'
So, there I am, bumbling through a series of difficult kicks without the benefit of being caffeinated, when I start panicking that Perfectly Nice might recognize me. I am in full-on Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grief mode. My first thoughts are all denial:
No, that's not him. He doesn't even live in this part of town. And I'm not wearing any makeup, so if it is him, he won't recognize me anyway.
Then, when I can't deny that it's definitely him, I turn to anger:
Why did I have to go out with so many guys? Didn't I realize I was bound to run into one of them some day? Why am I so picky? I am a whore! A first-date whore! See what happens when you're too lazy to get up and make coffee for yourself?!
Then right on cue comes the pitiful bargaining:
Universe, I will NEVER ignore a text or go out into the world uncaffeinated again, if you just spare me from locking eyes with him. Please, let me get through this without an awkward interaction with him, and I pledge I will be a BETTER PERSON from now on!
When the bargaining becomes too pitiful and annoying, I move on to depression:
There's nothing I can do. I'm just stuck in this uncomfortable place until I've done 500 of these damn kicks that I will never be able to do properly, much less with elegance. I don't care. Nothing matters anymore.
And finally, blessed acceptance:
It is what it is. I am not a bad person. I don't have to say 'yes' all the time. Feeling awkward is part of the human condition. I need coffee to function. Soon I'll be in the comforting embrace of my beloved coffee again.
I had trouble executing routine basic drills I've been doing since I started kickboxing six years ago. Then the class focused on a difficult kick that requires excellent flexibility if you want to really look good doing it. There's not enough coffee at all the Starbucks in Seattle that could get me to do that kick well. And on a day I hadn't had more than a eyedropper of coffee, there was no way I was going to be able to do a decent kick. So naturally this is the moment I notice him, not more than four feet away from me. He's a bystander, waiting for class to be over so he can take his kid home, and a guy I went out with once.
It was a perfectly nice first date. There was nothing of the ridiculous that often makes an appearance at many of my first dates. It was easy to talk with him because we had a lot in common, and culturally he felt familiar--part of the NPR tribe. He seemed like someone with whom I could have developed a friendship, and perhaps a relationship. A few days later, he texted me saying he hoped we could go out again after I got back from a short trip. And I would have gone out with him again, except that about the same time, I ended up going on a first date with a guy I liked better -- the guy who is now my boyfriend. Instead of texting "Perfectly Nice" that, except for bad timing, I *would* have gone out with him again, I didn't text him at all. I didn't know how to make 'I had a nice time with you, but I don't want to go out with you again, because I had a better time with someone else' sound like less of a rejection, and more of an explanation along the lines of 'Oops! You're a nice guy -- it's just bad timing.'
So, there I am, bumbling through a series of difficult kicks without the benefit of being caffeinated, when I start panicking that Perfectly Nice might recognize me. I am in full-on Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grief mode. My first thoughts are all denial:
No, that's not him. He doesn't even live in this part of town. And I'm not wearing any makeup, so if it is him, he won't recognize me anyway.
Then, when I can't deny that it's definitely him, I turn to anger:
Why did I have to go out with so many guys? Didn't I realize I was bound to run into one of them some day? Why am I so picky? I am a whore! A first-date whore! See what happens when you're too lazy to get up and make coffee for yourself?!
Then right on cue comes the pitiful bargaining:
Universe, I will NEVER ignore a text or go out into the world uncaffeinated again, if you just spare me from locking eyes with him. Please, let me get through this without an awkward interaction with him, and I pledge I will be a BETTER PERSON from now on!
When the bargaining becomes too pitiful and annoying, I move on to depression:
There's nothing I can do. I'm just stuck in this uncomfortable place until I've done 500 of these damn kicks that I will never be able to do properly, much less with elegance. I don't care. Nothing matters anymore.
And finally, blessed acceptance:
It is what it is. I am not a bad person. I don't have to say 'yes' all the time. Feeling awkward is part of the human condition. I need coffee to function. Soon I'll be in the comforting embrace of my beloved coffee again.
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