EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: Confessions Of A Vulnerability Addict
Her: In saying that, coffee helps everything.
Him: It really does. Maybe I can explain over coffee.
It had been 2.5 years since their first initial meeting. She had been in a relationship then. But her curiosity about him had been sparked immediately.
By the time she had became single and reached out to him drunkenly - and rather coyly - one night six months later, asking if they could catch up for coffee, he had begun seeing someone.
They never caught up for that coffee.
However, they did begin communicating.
For 16 months.
More than friendship?
She had tried so many times during those 16 months to forget him.
To tell herself she was building it all up.
That even though she was potentially living inside a fairytale-
Fairytales do not exist.
She wondered what advice Oscar Wilde, one of her all-time favourite writers, would provide her.
If he reincarnated in this era, would he have written poetry to potential love interests via FB Messenger, too?
Does romance require quills and parchment, or will keyboards cut it?
They had had a lot to learn in those 16 months.
Integrity was a reoccurring theme on their agenda.
She tried to be selfless a few times and end contact with him.
And he, her.
Yet they would find soon themselves talking again.
She berated herself for it.
For not being a better human.
But she also followed her heart, and allowed herself to be entranced by their connection.
They had been like magnets.
Irresponsible, confused magnets.
No contact didn't seem to work for them.
So, they found the solution in a box.
That is, they agreed to squish their feelings into a box so that they could justify staying in contact with each other.
A box which, if had to be named, would have been something along the lines of-
She had learnt a lot about boxes since then.
Excellent for moving houses.
Awful for Love.
"I don't know what that means" she wrote, exasperated.
Coffee had suddenly turned from the saviour of all things to an anxiety-provoking, heart-wrenching mindfuck.
"I'm saying lets get coffee".
It had been 67 days since she experienced an unexpected earth-shattering, soul-shaking, life-changing epiphany about how she truly felt about him.
65 days since she courageously broke their one year of silence and told him her feelings, having no idea if he was still in a relationship or not.
45 days since he unexpectedly became single.
Was this really happening?
Was coffee the right setting for their first long-awaited meeting?
What would they talk about first?
"Like regular daytime coffee without vodka in it?" She tried to deflect her feelings momentarily.
Then, she internally gasped.
How did he even drink his coffee?
She knew some of the deepest parts of his soul, and yet was shocked to only just realise that she didn't know his coffee order.
Was this highly romantic or hopelessly romantic?
She wondered if Oscar drank coffee while he wrote.
And if he did, how did he drink it?
Surely it was expresso.
Or, perhaps a Long black.
Fuck, did they even have coffee machines back then?
Before she even had a chance to google "when was the first coffee machine invented" he had replied.
"Vodka goes terribly with coffee"
Pfft, as if it does.
"Expresso Martinis would disagree with you..."
Could she survive the first meeting without her beloved expresso martini, she pondered.