The 10,000 Mile Latte
Dear BearVault,
About a month ago, a person I’m no longer friends with and I spent the morning trialing a DIY instant latte. I wanted something adjacent to a half-sweet calorically-dense caramel latte. An hour and 8 cups of coffee later, we landed on something.
This was our fifth cup. Painfully caffeinated, he said, “It’s giving caramel?” I confirmed, “It’s giving caramel.”
It’s vaguely molassessy, verging on the edge of bitterness which is dulled out by the malted milk and butter. The potato flakes give it a viscosity that reminds me of champurrado, something I’ve been missing since I left Los Angeles years ago. I wonder if Los Angeles feels the same way about me. I wonder if the sidewalks will love me back if I show up in the springtime.
My ex-friend who helped me with this recipe is no longer my friend because I told him I wasn’t in love with him the way he was with me. When I came back from living abroad and didn’t have a place to stay, he let me sleep in his bed. He admitted to me that he has been in love with me for the past two years, since he’s known me, and that he wants to be in a relationship for the long haul with me. I breadcrumbed him with a smile on my face. I’d just gotten out of an abusive relationship (he swore I’d call it that when it was over), and it felt good to have someone adore me. I kept him at an arm's length over the years, but I know it never felt like that to him. I told him all my darkest traumas and never felt vulnerable about it because sharing trauma doesn’t make me feel vulnerable, it just makes me feel interesting (thanks, John Green). And, if I’ve learned anything about sharing trauma, it’s that I can do it all with a giggle and a single tear and it will endear people to me without me having to feel much toward them.
So, after weeks of breadcrumbing and falsified intimacy, I caught feelings for someone else. It felt like I had been pulled out from underneath the ice. I told my ex-friend I couldn’t see a future with him. I told him I didn’t love him back.
“So you’ve been lying to me for the past two years?”
“I’ve been in a relationship for the past two years, what are you talking about?”
“It’s just that now I need to recontextualize every interaction I’ve ever had with you, especially over the past few weeks.”
“Okay.”
“Please get out of my apartment.”
keys are in the mailbox.
He ran into me the other day at a bar in Missoula. He asked me if I was still going to go on my bike trip. I said yes.
“Good, because I can’t fucking wait for you to finally leave Missoula.”
I'm worried I won't love me back. I’ve sworn I love myself, I’ve sworn I trust myself, but I’m not sure I actually know what self-love looks like or feels like. I’ve been asking, what would osali do if she weren’t scared or lonely? i have a lot of confidence in that girl.
We're trialing, we're erroring, and when in doubt I'll add some butter.
With love from Missoula, Montana,
Osali
