We all know I couldn't love a man who didn't love Starbucks. The drink says it all, and apparently I'm traditional, genuine and am someone who appreciates quality, (however sometimes a vanilla latte on those days when I've saved up enough money). Regardless, that's the persona I'm projecting with every sip I take of that steaming grande bold.
Perhaps this is where I'm meant to meet men. How has something as obvious as this has alluded me for so long? I'm there so much already I might as well try to meet a fellow addict with whom I can form a real substantial relationship with over overpriced coffee and fatty pastries.
So perfect, yet seemingly unattainable...until now. If nothing else, at least you'll know where to find me- hopped up on caffiene at every Starbucks in Manhattan trying to find love.
I hope he pays.
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