Oat Milk is DTF — Are You?

It’s 8:30 AM when your phone buzzes: “Hey.” The word electrifies your body. Immediately your mouth dries up in the heat of your excitement, and your palms begin to sweat. Even though you’re sitting down in class, your knees feel loose, and you’re not entirely sure if you’ll be able to get up again. 

Beneath your desk, your fingers shake with excitement as you type back, “hey.” 

“DTF?” comes the reply, not even a second later. Your libido rages like a frenzied flood crashing against a crumbling dam, and without a thought you rise from your seat and make for the exit. 

You know where to go, and the time is right now. Your limbs work like clockwork as you rush down the second floor corridor of Williams Hall. You plow through door after door. Your heart choking on the surge of blood pounding through your body. You get to the counter and reach into your wallet and extract your credit card, practically throwing it at the beanie-clad barista behind the counter. From behind trembling lips, you cough up the words “one oat milk chai, please.” 

As you stand off to the side waiting for your hookup, you cross your arms and start to gnaw at your fingernails as seconds stretch into eternities. Your eyes are riveted on the counter and watch as a sigh of steam balloons rises from the latte machine. At last the barista calls: “oat milk chai”. 

You practically snatch the cup from his hands and make for the nearest booth. You remove the lid. You need all of it, now, and you won’t let protection of any kind get between you and the oats of your dreams. The cup is sinfully hot and sexy, and the steam rising from it slaps you playfully on the cheek. Suddenly, you find that you can’t help yourself: the brim of your cup flies to your lips, and before you know it you’re guzzling that milk. You’re a dirty, dirty little slut, and now in this moment all of you belongs to the oat.

You quickly reach the bottom of the cup, your passion one that perhaps burned too bright and perhaps left more burns in your mouth than you would have liked. Even so, you glance longingly at the empty cup in your hand, and think about the wild times that you had together. You sigh, and with a mixture of satisfaction and sadness, throw the cup away and head to class, reflecting on love found and love lost.