@SeverinaAugustine 29 January 2026 more from that month

Men Who Say ‘Ms. Severina’ Rarely Stick Around

Last Saturday, I went to Starbucks for a drink. Simple plan. In, out, caffeine secured. Except the universe had other ideas. I walked straight to the counter and immediately noticed the barista. Cute. Dangerously cute. He greeted me with the sweetest smile and asked for my order in the softest, most gentle voice, the kind that makes you forget what you came there for in the first place. He was a bit short, just slightly taller than me, with thick eyebrows, a pointed nose, and those classic chinito eyes. Fair, smooth skin, calm confidence. Something about him screamed “manager vibes,” or at least “responsible enough to ruin my peace.” When he asked for my name, my heart did a tiny, unnecessary flutter. “Alright. I will call you if your order is ready. Thank you so much, Ms. Severina,” he said, carefully writing it on my cup. Then he smiled again, softer this time, like we were sharing a small secret. I stood there wondering if he had any idea how much that tiny moment made my day. I glanced at the receipt and saw his name. Ivan. Of course. I had come to Starbucks hoping to distract myself from *him*, yet somehow he had followed me all the way to the counter under a different face and an apron. I sighed quietly, pretending I was totally fine and emotionally stable. A few minutes later, he called my name. Even from across the shop, his eyes found me immediately. I tried to play it cool. I failed. The smile showed up anyway, uninvited. I walked over to the counter. “Here’s your coffee jelly. Enjoy, Ms. Severina,” he said, flashing that irresistible smile again. I thanked him in my sweetest voice, resisted the urge to giggle, and walked away feeling lighter than I had all week. Organic encounter unlocked. And that was it. No lingering stares, no follow-ups, just a fleeting crush that disappeared as quietly as it arrived. And yet, it made me realize something. Every guy who has ever called me “Ms. Severina,” especially at work, somehow ended up becoming a major character in my life. Erm… if you know what I mean. Sadly, I always fell for them, as if saying my name that way was their subtle form of flirting. You can call it a coincidence, because it was never intentional on my part, but yeah. So when someone called me that again, I felt slightly traumatized. My immediate thought was, “Uhh, here we go again.” I took a sip of my coffee and laughed to myself. Maybe “Ms. Severina” was just a name. Maybe it was just good customer service mixed with an overactive imagination. Or maybe it was my personal rom-com curse, quietly reminding me that I’m always one polite smile away from catching feelings. The funny part is, they never stick around. The guys who say my name like that always drift out of my life as easily as they walked in. Brief chapters. Memorable scenes. No sequels. So I walked out of Starbucks amused, caffeinated, and mildly emotionally threatened, already knowing how this usually goes. I told myself it was nothing. Just another Saturday. Just another barista. Still, if I ever hear “Ms. Severina” again, I already know what I’ll be thinking. Please be coffee. Please just be coffee.