One thing I love about the coffee shop is that it’s always full of interesting people to watch. Sitting with my headphones in, people naturally assume that I’m listening to music. Sure, the occasional head nod to a fictitious tune adds to the effect, but it isn’t really necessary. The best part is that after a few initial comments that would get the eavesdropping motors running, they assume I’m not listening to them, and will say just about anything in front of me.

Once I sat in awe as a gay couple had an all-out cat fight, complaining about how they don’t go out on dates anymore, and how all they do is fight about money. “Oh, and are you trying to kill me? Please put your dishes in the dishwasher when you’re done with them!” It was easy to imagine they have been married for 10 years. Except that I could see them, so that was out the door. It was painful and intriguing at the same time. Like a car accident, I couldn’t look away.

Now, today, sitting at Starbucks working on a rare freelance project, the couple in front of me is breaking up. She, of course, has a list of good points for why she isn’t getting what she needs out of the relationship. He, of course, sits dumbfounded as to what she could possible need more than his portly, buzz-cutted self. There will be tears soon, and he just doesn’t see it coming. I just hope they don’t leave first.

How is it that when these kinds of conversations are had, the woman is the one with everything all together? Even if the guy initiates the breakup, he ends up sounding like a boob, and while she could be a raving psychopath any other day, she’s got her head screwed on straight for that conversation. The girl may or may not have been psychotic, it’s hard to tell from this little slice of life. She could have been working from an outline:

• She feels them growing apart
• She doesn’t know what she wants in a mate
• Her life is a blank canvas right now, and she doesn’t want to close any doors before they open

His comments run the gamut of his cro-magnon-esque psyche:

• Don’t you like me?
• I thought we were happy.
• Don’t you like me?
• Silently to himself: I wonder if that barista is single.

Some nervous laughs, an awkwardly long hug, and she’s gone. He’ll stay here to lick his wounds, drown his pain in a venti Peppermint Frappuccino. And of course, he’ll hit on the coffee shop bunnies. So predictable, yet, like an episode of Friends, always worth the pause to watch.

Why doesn’t this happen on the days when I have nothing to do?

A post script:

I think as punishment for me watching the breakup earlier and getting a little entertainment out of it, now the guy behind me is watching Will & Grace on nbc.com, at full volume, and laughing along, at full volume, as if he were at home in his smiley face sunshine jammie pants and matching shirt. The best part? Somebody in his Fave Five obviously had something better to do three years ago than watch Will & Grace reruns; sadly, they missed it when it aired.

Have no fear, this kid with more bandwidth than tact is here to save the day! Forget sending the friend a link, he’s found his true calling: recounting the show into the phone as it happens. Such dedication our young hero has, especially considering he not only has to shout all the dialog over the show itself, but the espresso machine, the coffee grinder, and yes, even the other patrons.

We’re so inconsiderate.