I'm just going to come right out and say it: I miss being wooed. And for all those that ventured a guess, we would have accepted almost any "s" word for the blank in the title: shoes, shopping, stalking... but the absolute right answer here is Starbucks. The similarity is that both shorts and Starbucks are paramount to our individual lifestyles and both tie into the relationship of the woo-er and the woo-ee (who, for those of you who can surprisingly follow my train of thought here, are the caterpillars Boyfriend and I used to be before we evolved into the brilliant butterflies we are now). I'm quite sure Boyfriend will resent being likened in any way to a butterfly, so we'll say he's evolved into... I dunno... something masculine... a cement truck. A caterpillar to a cement truck. I'm aware that the logic is flawed. Moving on from this car crash of a paragraph.
Back to being wooed. I miss it, and I'm sure that all the attached folks out there do too. So much effort gets put out there, and things that drive you crazy about a person now you thought were adorable way back when. Ah, the ignorance. There is nothing like the rush of trying to hide certain aspects about yourself because you think somebody will like you better for it. Don't judge us, you've all done it too... the getting up through the night to brush your teeth so you wake up with fresh breath, stealing insightful opinions from experts on current events in order to sound smart during conversation in spite of not knowing what you're saying, we've all done something to this effect. Don't shake your head no, you're only lying to yourself. I like to think of this as part of Project Mantrap. It involves any sneaky behaviour a girl employs to get her man. I finally caught one I haven't wanted to throw back yet.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned, but Boyfriend and I began dating while we still lived in different cities. This made it easier to hide our vices: Boyfriend lives in shorts year-round and I have a palate for pricey coffees... daily. No big deal. I only hide it in the beginning because Boyfriend is a huge Tim Horton's fan -- it's his place of worship if a sports bar is closed. Tim's coffee is a close second to beer for him... that's a collosal compliment to their product. Therein lies the problem though, with our very seperate coffee preferences it's like West Side Story and a rumble could erupt between us broadway-style. Boyfriend doesn't sing or dance so this outccome would be worse than some kind of ancient torture device. I have to be on his side here (the initial stages of Project Mantrap), so when I fly in to visit him, we go to Tim Horton's all the freaking time to get our caffeine fix. Cool (you can't hear it or read it, but insert sarcastic tone here). All I'm saying is that it's alright, but seriously, very few hot drinks can trump a cinnamon dolce latte. Yuh huh, it's a proven fact.
While I hide my Starbucks appreciation, Boyfriend hides his legs inside pants for my first visits out to see him. It's a non-issue in the warmer months, but November/December/January? Really? It is later I find out that this is a preventative measure he has taken against my mocking because he knows the judgement I would lay on him if I arrived in winter to see him in shorts (this by no means is the same as Project Mantrap, he was simply trying to spare his ego). His reasoning? He's an east-coast boy that grew up with freezing winters with snow so deep it'd cover your house. I've never been that far east, but who am I to call him a liar? All I'm saying is that winter has a dress code. Put some damn pants on. Side note: You know the wooing stage is over when you use the phrase "Put some damn pants on". Le damn.
One day when I'm visiting him, he and I walk by the Starbucks near his house. I suppose I didn't do a very good job hiding my interest when my face glued to their window and I pressed my palms on the cool glass to stare at the baristas inside making delicious drinks.
You want a coffee?
Uh, sure. We're going to walk by the Tim Horton's anyways, right?
Maybe we should get a drink here. Boyfriend motions to the window we've stopped in front of.
OKAY!
Yelling this in his face didn't do much for the ambivalence I was trying to project, but who cares? The man is in the trap. He's coming around to what I like.
Have you ever seen the face of somebody that's never been to a Starbucks before? They look at the beverage board on the wall and realize, "oh crap I don't know what any of this says." Wish I had my camera, Boyfriend was so overwhelmed. You would think he was trying to read Swahili. He's charming. I think he just goes to Tim Horton's because he hasn't learned the Starbucks language. In one of my college classes we talked about how if you don't like something, it's because you don't understand it. Boyfriend understood nothing here, ipso facto, his distaste was quite obvious. I go to the counter and order my cinnamon dolce latte.
Boyfriend panics, then utters, I'll have the same.
Answer me this, why don't boys like to ask questions? He could've gotten something that he would have liked that way. The girl rings in our order and it comes to $9 plus change.
Ten dollars? Mass confusion which prompts Boyfriend to look at the girl and earnestly ask, Is there Baileys in that coffee?
She gets uncomfortable, says no, and gives him a free cookie to smooth things over. It seems to appease him. We get our drinks and resume our walk.
You want this? Boyfriend extends the paper bag with the cookie inside.
Ginger? Not at all.
Me either.
He tosses the bag into the next garbage bin we pass. It wasn't about the cookie, Boyfriend just wanted to get something other than two drinks for his ten dollars. He's like a little old man when it comes to the value of a dollar. It drives me insane, but now that we live together the man has gotten us some great deals.
The moral here is this: After Project Mantrap is successful and he becomes yours through your intricate system of lies, feel free to drop the pretense. Boyfriend pretends that I don't "waste" money on expensive coffee drinks, and I don't berate him for wearing shorts in February. This entry wasn't about Boyfriend's shorts by the way, I just feel that if I admit things about myself, I should drag him in with me. Fair trade. You just have to gradually ease into being yourself, and before he realizes that you aren't the person he started dating three years ago, he's already locked in. Mantrapped!
Time for tea,
K
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