On solo dates, iced coffee, and ink-stained fingers
I’ve only gone on “official” coffee dates twice. Two different guys, both way back when I was twenty.
Both times, I was a nervous wreck.
My first café date was stressful because I was terrified someone would see us and tell my parents. They couldn’t know, especially not my dad. After all, I was only supposed to see guys after college.
This guy was a few years older than me and lived about two hours away. He drove to my hometown to see me, braving the abysmal traffic and all that, and I found it charming that he’d put in the time and effort so early on.
Sadly, I couldn’t stay with him for too long since I just sneaked out of the house for our little date, probably mumbling a lame excuse to my mom as I rushed out the door. The way I had a deadline was almost akin to Cinderella’s situation — but a more pathetic version of it. I was already twenty for crying out loud, but I couldn’t even flirt with guys without worrying about disobeying and disappointing my parents.
Despite my nerves, the date went well, although we had to cut it short since I saw some of my old high school teachers in the same coffee shop. Fate wasn’t on my side that day.
My second café date was a few months later, at a large shopping mall near my university. We made plans after classes — dinner, an animé film, and coffee.
Even though it was a busy weekday and the holiday season — which means the hellish Manila traffic was more unforgiving than usual — we still arrived too early for the movie and had plenty of time to kill. It certainly felt more like a proper date. Even now, I can still remember which album and songs we listened to in his car; how we laughed about the most inane things, how the conversations flowed naturally, and which bookstores and shops we visited while strolling around the mall. How we reveled and felt comfortable in the silence.
This time, I was four hours away from home and didn’t have to worry about “being caught.” I was still nervous, but for a different reason altogether.
I liked him much better than the first guy, but I knew he didn’t see me romantically and that to him, we were just hanging out. I was only a friend who also enjoyed anime and going on food trips as much as he did. As I took sips of my iced latte and listened to him rave about the movie, my thoughts were all over the place.
Does my makeup still look nice? Am I being too awkward? How can he be so calm about this?
And, most importantly:
Is he enjoying his time with me?
Both café dates were uneventful, and I eventually stopped talking with them. But since I don’t go on coffee dates with guys anymore, I hold those memories dearly.
That’s it. All my other café visits have been with family, friends, housemates, and coworkers.
Oh, and myself.
Call it weird. Call it what you will.
But solo coffee dates are one of my favorite things in the world. At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I’d even say they’re something I live for. They’re something that gets me going when life gives me lemons and it feels like everything has gone haywire.
I also believe that anyone will get some value from “solo dates,” whatever form they might take.
For me, spending alone time at a café is at once relaxing and invigorating.
Here’s how it usually goes:
I’ll get dressed, wear my favorite lipstick, go to a café in my hometown or another city, and stay there for a few hours. I’m there just to enjoy the solitude and have my much-awaited moment of self-reflection.
Iced caramel macchiato has been my go-to drink for as long as I can remember, but recently, I often opt for an iced Spanish latte if it’s available. If I’m in the mood, I’ll also order a slice of cake or some pasta (or both).
And then, I’ll take out my trusted Muji retractable pen and journal and spend the next hour writing. Once I’m done, I’ll read a few chapters of the book or webcomics I’m currently obsessed with.
Solo coffee dates are like fuel for my soul. It’s magical how quickly and effectively it works as a pick-me-up when things aren’t going my way.
When life gets too much or I want to feel inspired and I have a few bucks to spare, I know a nearby coffee shop, pen, and journal are my best friends. After an hour or two of journaling and turning inward, I most likely have an action plan in mind. Or, at the very least, I already feel calm, inspired, and ready to return to my usual grind.
As I enjoy my time at a café, I always wonder why I don’t do it often. Imagine: for a few hundred pesos, I can already manage my anxiety, recharge, get a dose of creativity, and stay grounded.
Sure, it’s merely a quick, temporary remedy to my current problems, but often, these tranquil moments are all I need to get back on my feet.
Besides, treating myself to good food and coffee is the least I can offer myself for working so hard.
I know what I’m doing this weekend.
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