Cafe Sitting
Reading Time: 2 MinutesAnyone knows me– knows I like to sit cafes to write. I don’t know if people think I look “nice” or “approachable” but strangers talk to me ALL the time. Since I’m a social creature– I don’t mind this (much). Though on one occassion this proved way too interesting when a friend called me and asked me to define “snowballing” and I did– in front of a group of old ladies. I thought they’d be all shocked and horrified– instead– one asked– “But, dear, if that’s snowballing what is felching?” o/ — I love pervy old ladies. Anyways– today I’m sitting in my favorite cafe with my large diet coke, grande mocha coffee, one muffin and my netbook. I’m all set for an afternoon of gay porn writing. Then this man who has to be 70 sits down beside me and starts arranging the table “just so”. It was kind of charming and he turns me.. and says– “Sweetheart, could you tuck your computer cord under the table so the General doesn’t trip over it?” I do so immediately because the last thing I want to do is trip up a some 70 year old guy who still gets called “General”. The other guy comes along with their food and they sit beside me and fuss about politics and the price of milk at Wal-Mart and every once in a while when they think I’m not looking– the General would reach out and put his hand on…