I can’t remember exactly when I started going to this café in my neighborhood, but it’s been long enough and often enough that the lady at the counter no longer has to take my order. She’ll see me, then she’ll tell ME what my order is – “large iced latte with almond roca syrup, no foam, no cinnamon or chocolate, right?” Then she’ll make the drink, and that will be that.

Hardly any words are exchanged anymore. We used to chat a little, but now that she knows what I’m going to order, and I know that she knows what I’m going to order, we sort of just nod at each other, maybe exchange a smile and a hello, and then I get my drink and I’m on my way out.

If I think about it, it’s kind of cool, and it’s definitely convenient, but at the same time it’s a little sad. Familiarity has led to predictability, and predictability has led to the assumption that nothing new will happen, that it is what it is from now on. It’ll be the same drink, every day, because it’s what the lady at the counter expects me to want, because it’s what I’ve wanted for the last 3 or 4 months.

I was walking to the subway station this morning, drink in hand, and I thought to myself, “This must be what marriage is like.”