I’m Done With Sitting At Coffee Shops Waiting For Mr. Perfect To Appear

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I find myself, yet again, in Manhattan’s trendiest coffee shop. The kind with shitty jazz playing and overpriced cappuccinos served in actual coffee mugs. Why am I here? Because according to romantic comedy logic, if I sit here long enough and read “Eat, Pray, Love” hard enough, then Mr. Perfect will eventually stroll through the front door across the room.

Apparently, we are going to lock eyes and in this magical moment everything will change for the better. Then, things will start to move in slow motion and some kind of mood setting music should begin playing in the background. I think that’s how it works. My hope is that “Telephone Line” by ELO starts to play but any equally inspiring song will do.

Well, I’m sitting here. I’m waiting. I’m writing. And every single friggin time that door swings open, my eyes dart to the entrance, and I’m hoping to make eye contact with Mr. Perfect, and every friggin time I’m disappointed. 

Does this not lie in contrast to the laws of romance films? I’ve seen them all. Apparently, I’m supposed to just sit here and then this personified version of love will stroll in accompanied by this amazing, life altering journey.

My life is supposed to change for the better all because I sat my ass here and patiently waited for it. Because that’s how everything in life works. You sit there and wait for it. If there’s a job you’ve dreamed of having all your life, you’re supposed to sit there and wait for it. If you want to travel the world, you’re supposed to sit there and wait for the opportunity to travel. If you want to experience life, you’re supposed to sit there and wait for experiences to emerge. You’re supposed to sit there, in that trendy coffee shop, in the middle of Manhattan, sipping your overpriced cappuccino, reading the fuck out of Eat, Pray, Love, waiting for life to walk through that glass door, and eye fuck you in slow motion, so that this amazing, life altering experience happens.

But then, finally. In the midst of my frustrations. Just when I was least expecting. It happened. My life altering experience. Except it wasn’t in the form of my long awaited Mr. Perfect, and time didn’t move in slow motion, and I didn’t hear “Telephone Line” playing. My life altering experience came in the form of a thought. In that moment, I realized that’s not how life works. I’ve never expected fulfillment to hit me. I’ve worked relentlessly to find the success I’ve found in my career. To find the success I’ve found in my social life. To find the success I’ve found in my own personal life.

I left home and started my career in the film industry. I did that.

I didn’t wait for it. I went out and I did it.

I said I’ve always wanted to be in New York City and here I am. I didn’t wait for New York to come to me, I went to it. I did that on my own.

The small wins and the big wins, I did. I’ve never waited for destiny when it came to goals and ambitions. I’ve always understood that it was foolish to think that I could get anything I wanted just by sitting there waiting for it. So why do I expect love to just find me? Why do I sit here, glancing at the door, thinking that my answer is going to stroll across my gaze?

Life doesn’t happen if you don’t put in an effort, and love is no exception.

I can’t will Mr. Perfect to find me through excessive essays about love. 

So I don’t know about you, but I’m done with sitting at coffee shops, waiting for Mr. Perfect to appear.