Early morning, it’s Monday, it’s raining hard, it’s cold… I feel a bit low and sad. I decided to take time and do some online shopping. In the process, I passed by my old multiply site and found this excerpt. This used to be my favorite and I remember reading this everyday. Let me share it to all of you.
Could the recipe for true love be as simple as brewing the perfect the perfect latte? One hopelessly romantic barista serves up some answers.
By Monica Tanseco
I’ve been asked to write an article about love. About finding it, losing it, and maybe finding it again. Bet you’re wondering what qualifies me to do such. Unfortunately, I am no love doctor with a Ph.D. in Romance Physics nor an M.A. in Relationship Chemistry. I have had my heart broken just once, so technically I do not qualify as an expert by virtue of my vast experiences.
What do I know?
Well, let me tell you that I can mix you a mean café latte? I am a barista. In all the summers I’ve logged in at my tita’s café, serving up cappuccinos and espressos, I have learned a thing or two about that thing called love. Just like coffee, both require a certain amount of care to ensure it is brewed to perfection. You will need the following:
– Water, purified of all fear of ‘what if he leaves me?’ or ‘what if he’s not Mister Right?’.
– A certain measure of diversity-be it in the form of coffee beans or unique personalities-combined in an airtight container that will allow pressure to build up.
– A man and a woman, preferably hot for each other (or with the potential of warming up to the least the prospect of friendship).
Now, bring to a boil, in barista-speak, this is the moment when water and ground coffee first make contact, the former extracting flavors from the latter, in a manner that will drip and percolate for you an aromatic cup of espresso.
In courtship terms, this is when boy-meets-girl, when the first blush of infatuation floats up to the surface. This can take anywhere from 22 seconds to 22 months, depending on the temperature set o you machine. Agitate the coffee further with Saturday night movie dates, text messages embellished with smiley faces and animated teddy bears, cute phone calls at 1 a.m. involving favorite colors, movie-defining-moments and soul mates, and stolen first kisses. (That last one is my favorite.)
Now top with the velvety-smooth froth of friendship, sweeten promises kept, and you’ve got yourself the perfect café latte. Right? Well, not exactly.
In my experience, I know that no matter how you faithfully follow a recipe to the letter, you don’t always get the perfect cup of joe each time. Love—that other four-letter word I know—is much harder to concoct than coffee.
At some point, you’ll learn that no matter how hard you play by the rules, make all the right moves and try to be Ms. Perfect In Every Way, you don’t always get the results you hoped for.
Or the guy pinned for, for that matter. Because when reality rears its disappointing, pink-bubble-bursting head, you’ll realize Life doesn’t play out the way you wished it would.
The dude who once adored your lattes can snap out of it and proclaim you’re no longer his cup of cappuccino. Just. Like. That.
Suddenly, you find that all that’s left is a mug half-filled with day-old coffee that’s cold and stale and depressing. So you cry, you curse, you deny, you blame, you rewind, you wish and pray a novena to every saint you know that things go back to exactly the way they were. And no matter how often you kneel in Baclaran or how many candles you light at morning mass, you instant replay never happens.
So what do you do? You wipe away your ears, take your cup and empty it of all its contents. Rinse it under a running tap, making sure all traces of stains along the rim and down its side as well as leftover grounds at the bottom are washed away.
The, you start over. First, scoop yourself a generous batch of mountain-grown roasts, finely ground so that every granule is bursting with the prospect of new adventures, experiences and relationships. Pour water purified of all your bitterness, rejection and self-pity.
Now press ‘brew’. As you hear the machine whir, gurgle and sputter to life, close your eyes. Revel in the heady aroma of fresh coffee in the throes of being born. You may not see it yet, but just inhaling its sweetness, you hold the promise of good things to come in your heart the way you would a silent prayer. You dream of a cup so wonderful, so richly golden brown, encircled by a lush ring of cream so perfect you can already taste it.
And the moment you hear it streaming into your cup, you realize why you had to give up the last brew. Something much better was on its way to you.
And you’ll be thankful you waited. Because you know in you bones, in your heart, that this one’s going to be a keeper. And you wonder why it took you so long for you to realize that.
But then again, better latte than never.
The Breakup Diaries