Thirteen months ago, I began an affair with the Frenchman down the street. Unfortunately, not only does his wife not know about it, he does not know about it! You see, quite a while ago I gave up Starbucks. It just wasn’t giving me the warm fuzzies that I think it was meant to give. Additionally, after performing multiple scientifically inauthentic tests, I feel quite certain that all that fake syrup flavoring was making my skin break out! As a 40+-year-old woman who fancies herself a MILF but is really more of a Cougar who probably is really only viewed as a Tired Mom, I had to give it up! With all the other madness at this stage of life, who wants to deal with acne?!

The Frenchman, on the other hand — he mixes his coffee with homemade chocolate ganache that fills my heart with Parisian joy. Yet still, he does not know how I love thee. Or is it thou? It might just be him. Oh, how I love him and his chocolate ganache. And so it was that one day, while sipping my Mocha, I commented to my husband that I felt the Frenchman should know my name for all of the money I spend in his café on a weekly basis. It was a comment borne of my ego and then forgotten. Seven days later, I stood in his crowded shop waiting for that silky, dark chocolatey, bittersweet mocha, when Monsieur Ganache looked at me from across the room and was very quickly standing in front of me. “Are you waiting for something?” he asked in his very intoxicating French ox-cent. Yes. “What did you order? I will get it for you.” Thank you. I only ordered a Mocha. I come here almost every day for my Mocha (subtle, right?). And then! “Ah, if you are here every day, then I should know your name!” YES YOU SHOULD! I wanted to exclaim, but did not. I politely gave him my name; we shook hands; I praised his lovely drink; we parted as lifelong friends.

Since then, I have been in at least a million times. It is clear he has no recollection of my name and I am fairly certain he also does not recognize me. But his ox-cent is beautiful and his Mochas are amazing so the affair continues. Ahhh, c’est la vie in Suburbia.