Coffee, Cheese, and a Date with My Overconfidence

There I was—sitting alone at Cup and Kitaab, on what I proudly call a solo coffee date. Just me, my period mood swings, a half-drunk cappuccino, and a quesadilla I clearly overestimated my appetite for. Living the dream, honestly.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love these little coffee outings. But this one hit a little differently. Somewhere between the first sip of coffee and the second bite of my quesadilla (which, by the way, is just a fancy way of saying cheesy regret in a triangle), I had a full-blown realization:

I’m officially at that age where I can’t just call any random person uncle or aunty without judgment.

Heartbreaking. Tragic. A rite of passage no one prepares you for. The carefree days of blindly assigning honorary uncle-aunty status to every slightly older person? Gone. Now, I have to actually assess—Do they look old enough? Will I offend them? Should I just avoid the risk and awkwardly nod instead? The struggle is real.

Also, can we talk about how I used to demolish an entire large pizza and still have room for dessert? But today, I was full after half a cup of coffee and two pieces of quesadilla. Like, what is this metabolism betrayal? Is this adulting? Do I now belong to a generation that orders food for the vibe and not the appetite?

But despite the mini identity crisis and hormonal highs, there was something beautifully freeing about it all. No one to make conversation with. No awkward small talk. Just me, my thoughts, my bloated belly, and a newfound respect for digestion.

So, to sum it up: I’m older, a little more lactose-intolerant, emotionally vulnerable thanks to PMS, and occasionally attacked by the harsh truths of growing up. But I’m also free, content, and surprisingly okay with it all.

If you’ve never taken yourself out on a solo cafe trip, do it. There’s magic in sitting with your thoughts—especially when they spiral from cheese to age to digestion struggles. Trust me, it’s a wholesome little rollercoaster.


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