The evening is perfect, for you come to find courage in telling your friends one single secret you’ve been dying to disclose but couldn’t. You’re happy because now is the moment to tell them, so you gather everyone to sit inside a coffee house where you occasionally sip on your brewed drinks. The air conditioner is responsible for the numbing cold air and you utter a silent thanks because it helps you conceal the gathering sweat on your palms and forehead.
[At this point, you should picture what coffee shop you are in, who among your closest friends are there, what is the secret that you have to broadcast. Let’s say, you are in a Coffee Bean Teal Leaf in Katipunan with two friends (so if you have three, odd one out), and the secret is you now have
consumption a lover. You don’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend yet? Just try to imagine someone. You’re given a privilege here, you know.]
Your breathing becomes irregular and you clench your fists–all because of excitement. Because you know your friends will be thrilled to know about what the hell happened to your love life. Their attention is fixated on you and now all you’re waiting is the signal for you to start. Suddenly one of them burned his tongue from the scalding coffee: you then think it’s the sign, and you finally begin your story. And because you’re too excited and nervous, you can’t even look them in the eye; you only look down at your own cup and the magazine stack from afar alternately.
[The following is just one lousy suggestion to how your secret is to be divulged. Your version could include sporadic arm-slapping and hysterical shrieks.]
“Anyway, you’ve been asking me about this for almost two months already and I can’t keep it to myself anymore. So there, (name) and I are now a couple! We are! Could you believe it? Do I deserve a small ‘cheers’ here?”
They all go silent. The rush of frenzy fill you and you feel bold enough to raise your coffee cup for a toast and you look at your friends. But you discover that no friend cared to pay any attention. No one’s raising his cup. You realize that neither of them is looking at you because they are looking down at their cellphones.
Singular awkward silence.
You smirk to yourself and squirm; you do a smarting gesture that results to your embrace of complete chagrin–lowering down your hand which holds the cup for the supposed ‘cheers,’ slowly.
Like them, you try to fiddle with your cellular phone and hope that your boyfriend or girlfriend texts you, but there’s no message. You then remember that you asked him/her not to send text messages while you’re with your friends. You put your phone back to your pocket and tap the lid of your cup.
Then your friends notice your silence, and remember that you have something to tell. They ask you again what is it, and you are back to square one. With less enthusiasm and much effort to sound cheerful, you tell them, “We are now a couple.” Much to your shock, they are surprised with the news. They clap, and extend warm congratulations. Both of them are happy for you, and it makes you smile.
Deep inside, you know it’s a fake one.
Your friends remember another story about another person and you pretend to listen, but your mind is not with them anymore. In your own corner inside that coffee shop, you embrace yourself very subtly as you try to clear your senses out. You begin to allure yourself by recalling funny memories, but with no luck.
Now you blame everything to how cell phones and other technologies have ruined man’s once perfect course of conversation. You don’t know what’s worse: bugging cell phones or friends who don’t pay attention. It makes you sad to guess which for them is more important: the conversation you’re sharing or the piece of message they have to type and send. You don’t even think that their “textmates” need the urgency for replies. You wonder what possible reasons could exactly make them put their precious phones down.
You know this encounter makes you feel less of a friend. The worse is that you’re aware that they’re all clueless to what you have felt.
[It’s important that at this point, you should not make them feel you’re upset.]
“We might as well text each other while having coffee to prevent exhaustion from speaking,” you say to yourself. Your friends ask you what you just blurted but you only smile curtly. You feel embarrassed because you know the evening is not perfect at all. Your realizations and this very circumstance irk you.
You excuse yourself and announce that your stomach feels funny, and you need to go home–urgently. They ask if you’re okay and again, you smile curtly. They wish you to be well.
[It’s not restricted to stomach. You can also imagine your shoulders or toes aching.]
Before you exit the shop, you take a final glimpse at them, and they are not looking at you. You know where their eyes are glued to.