I don’t know whether this is a personal trend or a trend in all lesbians, but I continually find myself attracted to my local baristas. No matter where I am, I find myself being absolutely the most awkward possible when ordering coffee. And believe me, this is not because I order anything complicated, or because I don’t know anything about coffee. It’s because I can’t stop staring at the barista.
Let me tell you why, baby-gays, you shouldn’t fall for the barista:
1) If shit goes down, you can’t go to your favorite coffee shop.
2) The barista can mess up your drink.
3) All the lesbians there will hate you.
I’m going to tell you a little story. There was once a little baby Emily that went back to her hometown for summer vacation AKA summer waitressing. She had a favorite coffee shop, and it served the only good coffee in town, because she was a bit of a snob. Emily was also a manly-man and drank her coffee black as her fedora. There was a cute little lesbian that worked there. Her name was Lenny. Lenny was short, cute, but with a bad-ass Ursula tattoo on her arm that made her seem less bad-ass and even cuter. Emily liked her and loaned Lenny books and went to the coffee shop even more regularly, so all the cute baristas pretty much knew she only liked black coffee (or an occasional chai), and always in a mug.
One day Emily went to the coffee shop and ordered a black coffee. She waited at the counter for Lenny to come by and talk to her like usual, and there were no customers, so Lenny couldn’t have been busy. But she did not come back. She gave Emily a half-smirk-half-sneer and cleaned the espresso machine, sink, and counter.
She hated me!
Not really, but it felt like it, and I didn’t like it. Now we’re friends and we text like good lesbians.
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