No Pressure Over Cappuccino

My good friend Simon closed a door last week, but little did he know that several windows were about to be opened for him.

As Simon went shopping for stationary supplies with his friend Teresa, an errand that he actually enjoyed, the last thing on his mind was dating. Apparantly though, the same could not be said of his female friend.

“Let’s go for coffee”, Teresa suggested. Never one to decline an opportunity to sit down and catch up properly, Simon agreed that it was, indeed time for coffee. And sandwiches. As their orders arrived in a hip café contained within a period building downtown, Teresa stood. “Oh my god, hi!” she announced as one of her friends—good-looking, definitely—appeared at the tableside.

Simon sighed. A lunch interrupted sometimes felt like someone walking in on you having sex with your lover. It was that sacred. To Teresa, however, no such sacredness existed. “Join us”, she exclaimed. Since when did it become socially acceptable for lunch arrangements to be made without the fellow lunch partner being consulted, Simon had to wonder.

A few short minutes after the good-looking friend had joined, now complete with sandwiches and coffee also, Teresa realised she needed the bathroom. Simon, not known for his shyness, engaged in small talk and a little more with the new person.

“Would you go for a drink sometime?” the new person questioned. If Simon had been the sarcastic self that he is with friends he would have said something along the lines of “Oh, well, I like to go for drinks all the time”, adding atonally “Would this drink be something specific?” But Simon had good manners, and knew that while a drinks invitation over cappuccino meant that Dublin had come along, it may not be ready for sarcasm with strangers. Obliging the offer, Simon started to wonder where his original lunch partner had got to—it had been fifteen minutes, after all.

The new person didn’t seem phased. Simon wondered if maybe Teresa, head in toilet, required assistance. And then everything fell into place. Teresa, it seemed, felt that it was Simon who required assistance; in arranging a replacement for his recently departed Beloved. Or was it the good-looking friend who she was trying to help out?

As Teresa walked back to the table, casually, she remarked, “I’m so sorry, I was just so distracted by the new furniture downstairs…amazing”. Deciding against protesting against the arranged lunch date that had just occurred thanks to Teresa, Simon finished his sandwich.

Maybe it was the coffee, or perhaps it was the sight of the good-looking friend and the idea of drinks together that had required no effort on his part, but Simon decided that today; he was ready for whatever Dublin had to throw at him.