I went to my favorite lunch spot today. It’s a local expat
hotspot, usually packed full of pink, familiar faces. It’s the kind of place
where everything is tasty but expensive, and totally worth it simply for the
opportunity to bask in the air conditioned bliss. Chilly is not a word we often
get to use here. I’ll pay for that luxury.
It’s also the kind of place that people are ‘seen’. You’re doing something wrong if you turn up
and don’t see anyone you know. This can be fun because not having a lunch date
becomes a less intimidating prospect as there is a pretty good chance someone
will invite you to pull up a chair. It has its downsides too, however, because this
location plays its part in fueling the beloved pastime of basically any small
expat town: gossip. Gossip, of course is fun, and in many ways is the heart and
soul of the expat community (in our down time of course, when we’re not too
busy saving the world). Until it’s your turn. At which point you have to duck
and cover or focus on the food.
My favourite menu item at this particular place, since the
very start, has been their pine-minty-passion blend. It’s a delicious mix of
fresh pineapple, passion fruit and mint, smashed together with ice to make a
fresh and tropical pick-me-up suitable for basically any point in any day.
There is simply always an excuse for one. Had a good day? Let’s celebrate with
a pine-minty-passion blend. Crap day? Pine-minty-passion blend please. Hung
over as shit and the world is spinning? You see where I’m going with this.
I make a habit of rocking up for one on Friday’s, at the very
least. As to plan, I showed up just past noon today, smiled at the few people I
knew, who unfortunately appeared to be engaged in conversation that I opted not
to fully interrupt, and made my way into the line to order.
“One pine-minty-passion blend please”, and then I found a
table for two to sit at, because I always find it douchy when people who are
eating alone monopolize the larger tables. Larger tables without the security
of friends to occupy the other seats also make me feel bad about myself.
So I waited, not exactly alone, as any iPhone owner would
understand. My hand may have shaken discernibly as I handed over my credit card
to purchase my glistening white iPhone friend, but it’s been worth every one of
the 80,000 pennies it cost me. Look, that
loser is sitting alone. (Notices that I’m in fact engaged with my iPhone) Oh my bad dude, she’s totally busy and
important. I’m such a jerk.
I perused facebook and started into an essay by one of my new
favourite bloggers. And then it came. And there was something unusual about it.
It looked different; and it definitely wasn’t the right colour. The specks of
passion fruit and mint were obvious though, so without too much thought about
the situation, I decided to try it anyways. If it was gross I could surely send
it back and fix my order without too much trouble. Plus, I have been trying to
take good advice lately to just ‘go with the flow’, and this seemed like a
harmless opportunity to practice. (Some of that advice is my own - it’s easier
to give than take). So I set aside expectations and any preconceptions I had
about my order going to plan.
And it was…. awesome. Like, really, really delicious.
What I discovered is that instead of bringing me a
pine-minty-passion blend, they
brought me a pine-minty-passion smoothie.
The difference? Ice cream instead of just ice. Man, what a friggin’ awesome
combination.
Now the mix up may have been my fault. I would eyeball the
smoothie on the menu board nearly every time I was in there, always opting to
go for the blend; playing it cool and enjoying the smoothie only as a
possibility that would never find its way onto my order form. I’ve always known
that I would really like the smoothie. From the first time I saw it on the menu
board I knew I thought it was an awesome combination. Ice cream makes
everything more delicious, but perhaps I never truly felt that I deserved the
smoothie.
Maybe today I unintentionally asked for what I really wanted.
Maybe the woman who took my order made a small mistake that would unknowingly
change everything. Maybe the universe decided that it was time that I knew what
I was missing. Maybe.
So there I was, enjoying this smoothie that I had thought
about enjoying for so long, not really understanding why it had happened and
mostly not caring. Except that I now knew that it would be so hard to go back.
I could never undo that I now knew what the smoothie was like. Would my
pine-minty-passion blend, that once was so satisfying and exciting, now cease
to be so? How disappointing.
Now that I've had the smoothie - this particular smoothie - that
I had kept at the back of my mind for so long but kept suppressing as a real
option, how hard will it be to go back to not having it? Knowing what you’re
missing is way worse than just speculating.
I may never be able to walk up to the menu board and order
myself a pine-minty-passion smoothie, but I’ll be thinking about it often. Something
about it seems too indulgent, but if it finds me again I’d be up for that.
Could even make a ‘thing’ of it if I find a way to open up to the possibility.
So why all the fuss? Well, this story is completely about a
smoothie.
But it’s also basically same thing that has happened recently with me
and a guy.
(Though when I walk into the café, no one is whispering about
me and the smoothie)
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