Hapa Dating - Pt. 2
Miss Anonymous Hapa's millennial quest for love continues.
I’ve been in a one-sided courtship for a couple of days now...
It is taking place in the most unlikely setting for me: the local Starbucks. I had decided to give my thumbs a rest and delete the dating apps indefinitely. Now, my lopsided love affair has me camping out in a place I would never normally sit and waste time.
Distractions abound, from the guy listening to his podcast with no headphones to the resident Class of ‘45 Weekly Meetup, it’s a less than ideal place to get shit done… unless you’re trying to catch the attention of a stranger who smiled at you once and now you’re wondering when he’ll propose. I mean, I was already prepared to carry his children from the first full toothy smile he gave me on that first, fateful morning.
It all started when I woke up at the crack of dawn three days ago to cram for a 10 AM exam. It was 7 AM, I hadn’t brushed my teeth (no judgement zone), there was no makeup to be had and the rosacea was in full effect. I had scraped up a sloppy outfit from the sad discard pile from my floor. I think I had stepped out of a pair of pants the night before and literally just stepped back into them in the morning.
The whole encounter makes me feel like Parker Posey in Best In Show when she and her husband (both braces clad) are recounting how they met. “He was at the Starbucks across the street and I was at this Starbucks..." After that first rendezvous, I decided I was willing to order my coffee size in another language (GRANDE) if it meant spotting my could-be-husband again.
If this were the 90’s, I would be able to place one of those “missed connections” ads in the local paper. Or maybe we would both have the excuse of going outside for a smoke and I would ask to use his lighter. Or I could even innocently ask the time because: no cell phones. Without the aid of liquid courage one might have at a bar, these caffeinated coffee shop interactions seem almost impossible to navigate for me, a terrible flirt to begin with. I imagine myself in grotesque cartoon form like:
“Oops, I just stepped on this banana peel and slipped across the entire room to your table. What’s up?”
“Hi, I see you have a Mac. So do I. Oh, and an iPhone...me too! What are the chances?”
Meanwhile, my palm sweat has flooded the entire room.
This past time I saw him, I arrived at night around 7 and lo and behold, he was there. I pretended not to see him (why?!) and quickly and awkwardly sat at the table behind the only pillar in the place. I must’ve looked like Buster from Arrested Development peeping out from behind the pole then slowly disappearing again. He eventually got up to leave and I acted so caught up in my computer screen that I didn’t even get to find out if there was more eye contact or smiling to be exchanged.
When he left, I stopped sucking in and slouched back.
I want to do better. I want to use my words with my mouth like a grown-ass woman and say “Hello” to cute guys in public and not just with some emoji on an app. I want to make regular eye contact with others for the off chance that we may identify some spontaneous spark in real time, not some curated moment we present to one another in the hopes for a swipe, a like, a comment or replay (SnapChat).
I’ll probably reload the dating apps because, hey, it’s totally the way of the world. But I will also make a conscientious effort to not hide behind my screens no matter if I’m a bumbling fumbling muppet wearing dirty clothes from the night before and I hope my could-be-husband out there does the same. We’re all just out here doing our best.
Dating notes from the field to be continued…...
Miss Anonymous Hapa (MAH) is proud to write alongside the Hapa Mag staff, just not proud enough to divulge her identity. Composed of mixed-race beauty, millennial style, and questionable decision-making skills, MAH is unafraid to throw herself into the dating world of today. A confident 10, she is here to report her "hot takes" of these 4's and 5's that relentlessly blow up her Tinder.