AWKWARD.

Maybe that will change now. For a while, at least.

Starbucks, until just yesterday, continued to be our guilty, calorie-laden trip to soothe our quarantine caffeine jitters. Now they are, for the short term at least, drive-through only.

For some of us that’s horrible news. While I may not necessarily indulge in some of the company’s worst holiday sugar bombs…

…I miss the shop. Really. Bitter coffee and all. I love Starbucks. It feels good in there. Smells like heaven.

Like the Salted Caramel Mocha, with 59 grams of sugar. Look, by my measure, if I walk in and breathe the fumes I’m likely to pack on the extra quarantine pounds:

Nutrition per Grande, 16 oz, 2% milk, whipped cream: 470 calories, 16 g fat (10 g saturated fat), 370 mg sodium, 68 g carbs (4 g fiber, 59 g sugar), 13 g protein Sugar equivalent of: 18 Mini Candy Canes

One drink. Half my daily allotment of calories, and at 59 grams of sugar, well more than double the recommended intake for an adult woman at 25 grams.

Geez Louise.

Look, given my choice of cheerful holiday movies (Alien Quadrilogy, Prometheus, Alien Covenant, Venom….) such sugar would probably be useful to help me handle six face-hugger movies. But not this year, given that the gyms are closed, my toe is still busted, and I just had abdominal surgery. To say the least, heading into the holidays can be dangerous territory in any year. This one’s worse, certainly in that regard.

Can’t come in for a latte? Fine by me. Because that means, now that I’m settling into a new town and at some point, meeting new friends, I won’t be tempted. No Krispy Kremes here either. However that’s not why I’m happy that at least one coffee chain has shut things down for a while.

This closing has other implications. The holidays underscore our singlehood, and our loneliness, if we’re smart enough to stay the fuck home and away from those who love us and really don’t want any Covid shit we have on us, intentionally or not. For those who are single by choice, the jingle of single season is just fine, given that it’s easier on the holiday gift bills. For those who really really really really DO NOT want to be single this or any time of year, deep winter holidays SUCK.

And this year, quarantine means, unless you are just beyond stupidly addled, despite the scientifically-addled Supreme Court ruling about church gathering, you’re not going to crowd into church either.

The holidays, filled with (mostly fake) news of enforced joy, happiness and celebration are tough enough when reality doesn’t live up to the hype. For those susceptible to the messaging, no matter how dishonest, often decide that THIS YEAR I’ma gonna find love.

Which is why the first Sunday in January, just like the rush to the gyms, has become an annual event: Dating Sunday. To wit:

This coming year that would be January 3rd.

The short-term closure of Starbucks is for me great news. I dunno about other shops; the drive-throughs seem to be surviving but they don’t count for this story. You gotta have tables and chairs. Here’s where I’m going with this.

A few days ago I read this lovely but sad piece from Refinery29’s Kassandra Brabaw:

Kassandra is young enough to still be in prime dating time, and as she writes, she is enjoying a successful Tinder match. Hurrah! However her story points out what she and I have watched, and I have so very often experienced, mostly in Starbucks stores: unhappy endings.

Part of the reason is this:

From the article:

Studies have found, for example, that men tend to overstate their height and lie about their occupation, while women understate their weight and tend to have less accurate photos than their counterparts.

Medium peep Elle Silver wrote this gut-buster a while back which underscores the problem:

One of my favorites from her piece:

There’s nothing wrong with brainstorming unusual ideas for a first date — but don’t ever ask a woman to come fold your clothes.

In the midst of my initial text chat with Dale, 38, he shared that he was at the laundromat.

“My clothes are in the dryer. You should come fold them for me.”

Sure, Skeezix.

I’ve met all those guys, usually at Starbucks. I don’t do what Elle did, as in, give them another chance (a few, at least), for right about the time they get out of their cars and head towards the door, I am either on my way to the ladies room to climb out the window or I am already halfway out the side exit.

You think I’m cruel? Nope. What’s cruel, honey, is being dishonest. Especially flagrantly so.

While I can most certainly understand the compulsion to fudge the facts, you cannot fudge the pudge you put on since your posted photos. Or your (now- missing) hair, your missing waistline, your missing job, your missing…whatever. You will be missing a date, too. Lots of them.

There is nothing wrong with being big. Plenty of folks are, and they are also beautiful and interesting people. What’s wrong is to lie about it. I’ve been big. Never lied about it. I have had plenty enough rejection in my time on earth that I have no intention of ensuring lots more of it by being blatantly dishonest.

I can’t speak for anyone else but I no longer wait around if I clearly see that said date was fundamentally dishonest. I’ve left my fair share of bits of cloth caught on the window or the exit door. My time is more valuable than having it wasted by someone who has already wasted whatever trust might have been available from the get-go. Because, what else are you gonna lie about if you can’t be honest about your grey hair or your belly or the simple fact that you haven’t been inside a gym or on a track for thirty years?

Goes both ways. Women do this too, in all fairness.

From the dating app article above:

Lying to appear like a good match or lying about your whereabouts can be completely rational behaviors. In fact, most people online expect it. There’s also a benefit to lying just a little bit: It can make us stand out in the dating pool, while making us feel we’ve stayed true to who we are.

However, outright and pervasive lies — mentioning your love for dogs, but actually being allergic to them — can undermine trust. One too many big lies can be problematic for finding “the one.” There was another interesting result that speaks to the nature of deception during the discovery phase. In our studies, the number of lies told by a participant was positively associated with the number of lies they believed their partner told. (author bolded)

“Rational” does not make it right.

Call me crazy. Call me stupid. But fucking call me honest. I will not lie on my profile. And I will not, ever, accept a guy who lies on his. For that, kindly, is a harbinger of things to come. What? Your mother dropped you off at the corner so you could walk to the Starbucks for our date?

I might be a lot of things: foolish, silly, clumsy, forgetful, stupid at times, and a whole lot more. Those things make me human. But I. Will. Not. Lie. Not on a profile, not on a resume.

Not on your life.

For a life lived under the glowering grey belly of deceptions is bound to break open on you and me someday. And at that point, we are likely find ourselves alone for another holiday season, slurping another Starbucks sugar bomb, waiting for the date who escaped out the bathroom window.