they give love a bad name

there is such a thing as too amorous. at the shop (jack's coffee, of course) there are . . . the lovers. a young man and a young woman who have taken things too far. everyday. EVERYDAY. they MEET at the shop. he arrives first, with a bouquet of flowers. EVERYDAY. when she arrives, she feigns surprise at the bouquet. and he picks her up and twirls her. these twirls take place at least twice, if not thrice, during their stay. and this is a small shop. their twirling takes up half of the joint. and tends to block all entry and exit ways. unacceptable - what if there's a fire? and something about flowers everyday screams "please please please love me. or at least sleep with me." and yet they continue to meet. not arrive together. even on saturday mornings. (but maybe he left before her - ya know, to get the flowers.)

well today i've reached my limit with all of this textbook over-romantacism. the aforementioned lovers' routine occurred this morning like clockwork. sigh. nauseating. but then. THEN. this evening, i look out my window, down to the shop. and what do i see? Male Lover waiting again. with ANOTHER fucking bouquet. that's TWO in ONE DAY. even Female Lover is starting to look bored.

now some may say i'm a cynic. or unromantic. really i'm not. quite the contrary. do you wanna know what i think is romantic? flowers every once in a while. a twirl on a rare occasion - and always overdone, with a sense of irony. the surprises are what's romantic. if it becomes that routine and expected, it takes the meaning out of it.

at this point, the entire bloody neighborhood has come to the conclusion that Male Lover should be told this. because we don't think he knows.