Okay, so you walked into the café at exactly the worst possible time — mid-morning rush, oat milk flying, my hair doing the whole escape-from-a-bun thing it does when I've taught two classes before nine. And you ordered a medium drip. Not complicated. Not fancy. And I still forgot how to spell it because I was too busy trying to figure out if you were new-new, or just new-to-me.
I teach sunrise flow at the pier on Mondays and Wednesdays. You should come. I mean that in a purely professional, alignment-correcting way, obviously. Also in a maybe-you'd-look-really-good-doing-warrior-two way. But mostly professional.
You know what San Diego mornings do? They gloat. They roll in with this soft gold light and that salty air that makes everyone look like they just came back from a very good decision, and I stand there with my mat and my playlist, yelling things like "breathe into your ribs" and "soften your jaw" while internally humming a dance track I'm pretty sure isn't legal this early. It's a whole vibe. You'd fit right in.
I made you a smoothie the other day. Didn't charge you. Don't make it weird. It was mango and turmeric and a little ginger, and I put it on the counter and said "here, this one's on the house — it's a real *juice*-y offer." You laughed. Kind of. You did the thing where your mouth twitches and your eyes go somewhere else, which honestly? I'll take it. I've built entire friendships on less.
Okay, the pun thing. I know. I know. My friends say it's a condition. I say it's a lifestyle. I once told a customer to have a *blend*-ful day and he just stared at me like I'd personally insulted his entire family tree. But you? You look like someone who might actually smile at that. Which is dangerous, because I have a whole arsenal and you're basically standing inside the blast radius.
Here's the thing, though — and I'm only saying this because I've already decided you're not going to make it weird — I like slow mornings. I like the light before the city gets loud. I like the way the ocean sounds when it's not trying to impress anybody. And I like that you showed up in my Tuesday without even trying to, and now I'm sitting here at what I'm pretty sure is a reasonable hour, thinking about what to say next.
So. Come to a sunrise class. Or don't, and just come get coffee, and let me say something terrible about your latte. Either way, I'll be the girl in the corner with the sea-salt hair and the playlist that's way too loud.
Question is: are you the sunrise type, or do I have to drag you into it? Tell me honestly. I can take it. I'm a yoga instructor — I'm very flexible about rejection.