"I'm about to go get a coffee from downstairs. You want something?"
Now, I’ve gone ghost and been ghosted before. The guy I really liked will link back up with his ex. Another guy will figure out that I’m never going to sleep with him and he’ll disappear. One might leave because I live too far and he got warrants in my neighborhood. The possibilities are endless. But y’all, you reach a whole new level when you get ghosted by your cafe. I ain’t THAT ugly.
I wanna tell y'all a quick little story about how I got my feelings hurt.
It was late September, 2016. I had just moved back to Chicago. I was so excited about my cute little neighborhood where everything from trains, to buses to local eateries were accessible by foot. One of the first things I noticed upon moving in was the quaint little cafe just steps away from my building.
Every morning when I'd walk to the train, there would be people sitting outside having coffee on the patio. Parents taking their little ones in for a treat. Y'all, the bakers would even come out and talk to the neighborhood residents as they walked by. I couldn't wait to get up in there!
Y'all, when. I. Did. The coffee? I'm pretty sure God brewed that in Heaven's kitchen and shipped it to them. The biscuits? I know for a fact my grandma gave them the recipe. The scones? When you bite it, it makes you want to call your ex and tell him you was just playing, y'all can work it out. The staff? When you walked in, made you feel like you were at your cousin house and told them you ain't ate all day. I mean, they had it going on so good, when my family came to town, they made sure to get coffee and pastries from there. It got so bad, I would wake up an hour early to go there before I started my day. And y'all know I like to sleep.
One morning I decided that maybe I was spending too much money and I'd make coffee at home. I look in my kitchen cabinet and I'm out of coffee. Go figure. I'm like, it's all good, I still have time to walk down to the cafe. I'm pretty sure I skipped down there out of pure excitement. To my surprise, there were no bakers greeting the neighbors, it was pitch black, the tables and chairs were gone, the outdoor patio had been torn down. Fellas, it's like when you didn't know your girl was that sick of your sh** and you come home to find all of her drawers emptied and her number changed. I was devastated.
The next day, I stalked them on Facebook. They said they may or may not be returning to the neighborhood and things were up in the air. What I read was "It's not you Brit, it's us."
For months, I've been checking their page with no word about if or when they're coming back. It's almost like they never existed. Until last week, I'm walking past their old spot and it's under a new name saying "Now Open for Brunch". I read that sign as "Hey big head. Wyd."
The moral of the story is, no one is above ghosting you. Not that dude you been knowing since high school, not that girl you brought home for Thanksgiving, not your best friend since college and apparently, not even your neighbordamnhood cafe!
-BRIT
Now, I’ve gone ghost and been ghosted before. The guy I really liked will link back up with his ex. Another guy will figure out that I’m never going to sleep with him and he’ll disappear. One might leave because I live too far and he got warrants in my neighborhood. The possibilities are endless. But y’all, you reach a whole new level when you get ghosted by your cafe. I ain’t THAT ugly.
I wanna tell y'all a quick little story about how I got my feelings hurt.
It was late September, 2016. I had just moved back to Chicago. I was so excited about my cute little neighborhood where everything from trains, to buses to local eateries were accessible by foot. One of the first things I noticed upon moving in was the quaint little cafe just steps away from my building.
Every morning when I'd walk to the train, there would be people sitting outside having coffee on the patio. Parents taking their little ones in for a treat. Y'all, the bakers would even come out and talk to the neighborhood residents as they walked by. I couldn't wait to get up in there!
Y'all, when. I. Did. The coffee? I'm pretty sure God brewed that in Heaven's kitchen and shipped it to them. The biscuits? I know for a fact my grandma gave them the recipe. The scones? When you bite it, it makes you want to call your ex and tell him you was just playing, y'all can work it out. The staff? When you walked in, made you feel like you were at your cousin house and told them you ain't ate all day. I mean, they had it going on so good, when my family came to town, they made sure to get coffee and pastries from there. It got so bad, I would wake up an hour early to go there before I started my day. And y'all know I like to sleep.
One morning I decided that maybe I was spending too much money and I'd make coffee at home. I look in my kitchen cabinet and I'm out of coffee. Go figure. I'm like, it's all good, I still have time to walk down to the cafe. I'm pretty sure I skipped down there out of pure excitement. To my surprise, there were no bakers greeting the neighbors, it was pitch black, the tables and chairs were gone, the outdoor patio had been torn down. Fellas, it's like when you didn't know your girl was that sick of your sh** and you come home to find all of her drawers emptied and her number changed. I was devastated.
The next day, I stalked them on Facebook. They said they may or may not be returning to the neighborhood and things were up in the air. What I read was "It's not you Brit, it's us."
For months, I've been checking their page with no word about if or when they're coming back. It's almost like they never existed. Until last week, I'm walking past their old spot and it's under a new name saying "Now Open for Brunch". I read that sign as "Hey big head. Wyd."
The moral of the story is, no one is above ghosting you. Not that dude you been knowing since high school, not that girl you brought home for Thanksgiving, not your best friend since college and apparently, not even your neighbordamnhood cafe!
-BRIT
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