Soy Mocha Guy

While running some errands this afternoon, I pulled through a drive-through coffee joint (not Starbucks) at my husband’s request. I was asked to bring him a mocha. As soon as I ordered it — “I’d like a medium decaf mocha with soy, no whip, please” — the young woman’s face lit up.

“I know who this is for,” she practically purred, all smiles.

Huh.

As she rang me up: “Ya know, we finally got him to tell us where he works, so I told him I’d be scouring the Gazette for errors from now on.”

Huh.

As she poured the drink: “Um, what’s his name? We’re gonna be starting a ‘Customer of the Month’ thing, that’ll give him discounts and stuff for that month, and we’ll put his picture up, and we’ve been trying to figure out the names of all our favorite customers. We only know him as Soy Mocha Guy.”

Huh. I’m married to Soy Mocha Guy.

I recently discovered how often he’s been running by this place to get what appears to be his signature drink, which I found funny, mostly because people I know who frequent coffee joints usually are jonesing for caffeine and need their daily fix to fend off headaches and sleepiness and life without a chemical dependence. But Soy Mocha Guy has been off caffeine for over a year now. He doesn’t even really like soy milk all that much.

Huh.

Is it wrong that, because the giggling girls there weren’t attractive, I found the whole thing quite amusing? If they’d been little hotties, would I be having a talk with Soy Mocha Guy about his newfound habit, and his new chatty little fans? Perhaps.

I wonder if anyone's ever referred to me as Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard Girl. Maybe I should have Chris head to the DQ drive-through and find out...