We’re back at Starbucks folks, and it’s the happiest time of the year! Okay, well no, that’s a lie. Everyone I know is pretty miserable right now, bogged down with homework, stress and failing love lives… alright, that last one might just be me. There’s just something about dark-haired skinny men with brown eyes, am I right? Ugh. 

My close friends can’t relate. My best friend is engaged—rude of her to have her life all together, I know. Another close friend of mine has been dating the same guy since preschool, which personally, I don’t understand. Most boys ate crayons in preschool, but alright girl, you do you. 

So, as usual, with this guy rudely interrupting my every thought, I came to Starbucks for a little peppermint mocha therapy. When I say I love them, I mean I LOVE THEM. They’ve only been available for a couple weeks but hot damn, they can almost replace men. Never fail to satisfy, extra hot, reliable–the perfect balance between sweet and holiday-ish without making me want to barf a Hallmark movie. 

While I’m just sitting here, trying to ignore the fact that I actually like his existence in my life, sippin’ my peppermint mocha—an older lady gets in my business. My perfect drink of choice is suddenly under fire as she spies it, proceeding to turn fully around in her chair to inform me on how much sugar I am willingly ingesting. 

First of all, I’ve ingested a lot worse. But for real, what about me brings this on? It can’t be my resting bitch face, I’m wearing a mask. I’m not talking to anyone here because ew, people. I’m just minding my own business, hating the fact that I’m not attracted to any other man right now, and drinking a large portion of my calories for the day.

I politely asked her to leave me alone. After all, I’m working hard on my journalism career right here. She got offended and red-faced like I was the one who dragged my metal-legged chair across the floor to insult her sugar consumption. 

At this point, people were starting to stare and I just couldn’t deal when she told me it’s likely that the sugar is contributing to my “bad attitude.” Joke’s on her, my bad attitude is a personality trait at this point. She could probably do with a sweeter coffee, it might help her mood. 

So I did what every old person seems to despise, I put my earbuds back in with deliberate slowness and locked eyes with her until she turned back to her cold, bitter black coffee and left me to my own devices. Sadly, that meant ignoring real problems and instead overthinking about this skinny, brown-eyed man. Someone tell me to get a damn grip. 

At least Starbucks understands the desire to eat my feelings, thank god peppermint mochas will be around for the next few months. From the way things are looking, we’re gonna need it guys.