Black, Like My Men*

How very... San Francisco.

Never again shall I visit Costa’s on my lonesome. Earlier today I decided to take a trip into town in the hope of liberating my writer’s block. After having narrowly avoided a head on collision with a man in a wheelchair, I headed straight for The Works where I perused a disappointing assortment of dictionaries. Having failed to find several words including verisimilitude and synesthesia, my faith in 'Collins' was understandably shaken and so I sought solace in the aforementioned coffee establishment. I ordered my quasi regular Mocha coffee, sans flake, and moved to the collection point. It was then that I was asked, as is routine, if I would like chocolate sprinkles. I said yes, but I had no idea that this topping would be in the shape of a giant heart. To the woman behind me this must surely have been the most pathetic thing she had ever seen; a young man, alone, and so starved for affection that he requests for baristas to add heart patterns to his drink. Still, just in case I hadn’t conveyed the full extent of my innate social backwardness, I then proceeded to do some light reading... of Jane Austen’s Sense & Sensibility. Indeed it is no wonder that most women think I’m gay. Or at the very least mildly pathetic. This will change next time however, as I'll be accompanied by my mother :).

*This is an Airplane! (1980) joke. If you have not seen Airplane!* you have no sense of humour and are probably a Mormon. 

*I have not added the exclamation mark for dramatic effect, it really is part of the title.*

*Sorry that was a typo.