Tonight I’m back in Greenwich Village. The Starbucks I’m sitting at is directly atop the West 4th Street subway terminal, and it is the Starbucks I met my boyfriend at on our first date.
I used to always tell people that I was going to meet the love of my life at Starbucks. It just seemed proper since I spent so much time at Starbucks anyway. I could easily see myself sitting at the crowded cafe, working on a paper or pleasure reading, when a nice young gentleman would ask if the seat next to me is taken. “It’s yours!” I’d say a little too fast. We’d spend the next five minutes stealing glances at each other, and the following two hours getting acquainted and discovering how much we have in common. And the rest would be history.
I’m sure many love stories start at Starbucks. Whether it be a chance meeting, a planned coffee-date, or even a little barista-on-barista romance. Especially here in New York City. You never know. The guy or gal you accidentally spill your latte on may be the one that meets you at the alter. Personally, I’d prefer a beach wedding though.