If we were having coffee, I, with my unfortunate, characteristic lack of tact, would blurt out “I #Hate #Starbucks!”. The shocked silence will be replaced by an intuitive, collective global gasp across all social media. “Who #hates #Starbucks?!?!?!?” everyone else on the planet asks in wonder. Nevertheless, you politely ask me why, and I blithely respond with “Because it tastes like burnt sludge water and the only way it’s drinkable is by the ten pounds of sugar, flavoured syrup, a milk product of some kind, and the ten pounds of whipped cream they add to the coffee.” I suddenly realize that you look somewhat irritated. Or is that the caffeine deprivation? It’s hard to tell. But,before I can backpedal with something less insulting like “It’s okay, I’ll just have a cup of tea there, if you really like Starbucks”, I would wiping the contents of your triple-shot grande whipped cream-laden, vanilla mocha latte from my face (thank goodness it was iced) and watching you storm off.
Or, I don’t manage to put my foot in my mouth and you’re happily sipping away at your Starbucks (iced) triple-shot grande vanilla mocha latte with extra whipped cream, and I’m trying not to wince at the aftertaste the waxy paper cup is leaving in my earl grey tea. I would tell you about my very vivid, more-exciting-than-my-real-life dream involving myself re-cast as a dark queen manipulating humans on a life-size chess board. Or I would tell you about my elderly cat’s tendency to projectile vomit and how many FRICKIN’ times I had to wash the throw rugs-sheets-table cover-cat beds in the past three days, or how the other one is such a diva that I have sit/stand next to her because she won’t eat her special food/supplement for her kidney issues unless she has a dining companion (either me, or the other cat). At which point, you pick up your grandiose cup of coffee and your smartphone and any other accouterments you carry around with you and excuse yourself to go to the restroom. I realize after twenty minutes or so you’re not coming back. *laugh*
Or. if we were having coffee, you’d say “I know this great place that has delicious French-press coffee and a wall of fabulous teas” and I say “Okay, sounds perfect” and, for once, I manage not to say the wrong-boring-tactless-completely unrelated thing over coffee/tea, and we talk about movies and great books and history and current events and activism and our love for both Star Wars AND Star Trek and before we know it it’s time for lunch/dinner and we toddle off to a place with great (insert your favourite food genre here!) and we are BFFs forever and ever, and when the day/evening comes to a close we open up a portal that will take us to our respective alternate dimensions, and we make plans to meet up for coffee/tea/Klingon Bloodwine within a coordinated time cycle, perhaps in a galaxy far, far away.