I Hated Men Until a Cup of Coffee Changed My Mind
How a rude message led to one of the best dates of my life.
The date was going surprisingly well.
The man sitting across from me smiled and seemed to be enjoying himself. It might not seem like it, but the whole scene was a miracle, considering the rocky start to the evening.
Earlier that day, I’d been walking home when I received a message on my dating app. “Hey! I’m in town for a week in your part of town! I read your profile page. It’s hilarious. Want to grab dinner tonight?”
It was a kind message. Unfortunately, the timing couldn’t have been worse.
First of all, the day had been horrible. I’m talking about fights with friends, stress with coworkers, and a never-ending list of complaints from customers who would not leave me alone.
Secondly, he was messaging me at the end of a string of bad dates and hookups. I was finally getting back into dating after breaking things off with my first serious boyfriend. The gaslighting and emotional abuse I endured from the first several men I went out with had nearly put me off the opposite sex entirely.
I felt hollow. Six months prior, I’d returned to the dating world fresh-faced, with very little emotional baggage. At the time this guy messaged me, this was not the case. I would have to pay an exorbitant baggage fee at an airport for all the extra emotional weight I was carrying.
So I snapped back a message. “Let’s do coffee instead. Then, if we don’t like each other, we can get out of there without waiting for a bill.”
There was a moment of silence. Satisfied I’d chased away another lousy dude. How did I know he was terrible? Because all men were, of course. Feeling satisfied, I continued on my way.
Then, a ping rang out from my phone. I saw I had a message.
“OK! Sounds good! How about 6? You can name the place.”
I was curious to get to know this strange man who was still eager to meet me even after I hadn’t bothered to put my best foot forward. So I agreed on a time.
“Make it 6:30,” I couldn’t help but try to make a power move, “and we’ll meet at the Curious Cup at this address.”
Immediate reply. “OK!”
So I met Jacob at a cute little cafe. I got there at 6:29. He was already waiting in a corner, reading a book. I sat across from him, now self-conscious about my earlier decision to be defensive. He couldn’t have been cooler about the whole scenario.
As Jacob and I savored our coffees, we started with small talk. He was visiting for a week on business, and his accommodations happened to be in the neighborhood, so he’d done what many men do. Using the “people near you feature” of the app, he’d sorted through the prospects to find a possible connection. After reading through all the bios, I was the one he wanted to get to know better.
He set down his cup. “I want to be honest; I’m not looking for anything serious. If this date leads to a good friendship, that’s fine. But I can’t do a relationship.”
He didn’t know it, but his only being in town for a short time only made him more attractive. I knew if things crashed and burned, his presence would not forever loom around, making me sick.
“Do you like the coffee here?”
I put down my still full cup.“It turns out I do not.”
“Any chance you’d like to go for a walk and try to find some better java?”
Laughing, I agreed. We ended up nearby, on a tourist’s walking street. We became better acquainted on that crowded lane full of colorful fripperies and fried snacks. By the end of the evening, I knew I wanted to spend as much of the week as possible with him.
We walked down the street where his Airbnb was located. He took out his keys and turned to me.
“I need to get back. I’d love you to come over because I’d like to kiss you. But we don’t have to do anything tonight.”
Please don’t take me, a child raised on Dateline, for a fool. I knew a murder situation when I saw it. So, I agreed on one condition.
“If you let me send your name and picture to a friend so she can help the police find you if I end up in pieces in an alley, then yes.”
To my relief, he laughed, but not like the crazy laugh of a guilty killer who just got caught. “I understand. Go ahead.”
I sent the details to my murder buddy and followed him to a quaint apartment. We made out on his bed for about an hour until I decided it was time to go.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t apologize. I said we didn’t have to do anything. Any chance you’d be interested in a dinner date tomorrow since you know I won’t bore you?”
And I did have that dinner with him. Then I went back to his place for more fun. He never pressured me, even offering a set of pajamas if I wanted to stay the night.
The third time we met was his last day in the city. We ended up having fantastic sex. Afterward, we fell asleep, his body spooning mine in a comforting embrace I hadn’t encountered for a long time. It wasn’t love. I was too practical to think that. It was something else I had yet to identify.
In the morning, I woke up alone in bed to a crunching sound. Then I smelled it, the rich, chocolatey aroma of coffee. Curious, I strolled into the living room and found Jacob standing in the open kitchen, hand-grinding coffee.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, you’re up! I always pack this coffee from San Francisco because I can’t get the quality anywhere else. I wanted to make sure you got a chance to try some while I’m here.”
I felt irrationally angry. I wanted to scream, “Why are you doing this? You don’t have to be so nice! I’m just a girl you want to fuck.”
I didn’t say any of that out loud, but the words rang through my head. I couldn’t believe how messed up my thoughts had become. I’d gotten so used to men mistreating me that I now expected it. I’d almost come to think I deserved it.
Jacob changed that. He opened my eyes and my heart by doing nothing but treating me with kindness.
With his smile and an innocent cup of coffee, he taught me that a man can sleep with a woman for pleasure, without any strings attached, and not treat them like garbage. I was thankful to experience sex with someone who respected me. It sucks that I lived in a world where such a thing made me grateful, but there you go.
The unconditional cup of coffee changed my view on how sex can be freeing and how I deserved respect, if not love, from my partners.
We texted a bit after he left, sharing pictures of different coffees we enjoyed or a funny observation. Like all flings, it petered out naturally. Then, on my birthday, after almost a year of not talking, I received a message.
“Tell me your Kindle email address! I am sending you a book I know you’ll enjoy.”
It was a book of humorous essays about online dating. Whenever I read it, I feel a surge of happiness. Why? But because it reminds me of someone who restored my confidence in dating and myself.
