The First Time I Ever Sat Down and Had a Coffee

What I had to unlearn before I could finally linger

This story originally appeared on Medium in Charlie Brown’s Rooted publication. Read Charlie on Medium or subscribe to her Substack—The Sauce.

It’s not about moving abroad as much as it’s about what happens when you actually exist in a place stop listening to your anxiety.

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There’s a time in my life I think about often, particularly when I get anxious — and my anxiety threatens to stop me from doing simple things I know I should do or that I want to do.

In the 2001–2003 timeframe, just before my 22-year-old daughter was born, I was living in San Francisco — a few blocks from the corner of Haight and Ashbury.

More times than I can count, I’d ride my bike up Haight Street to the top of the hill at Baker. I loved the descent towards Divisadero. If I hit green lights all the way, sometimes I’d make it to Market Street with zero effort.

But more than half the time, I’d turn around at the top of the hill and go back home.

For whatever reason, I felt like I should be working. That spending time just messing around on my bike was irresponsible.

Instead of taking a bike ride, I’d sit at my desk and work — often not getting much of anything done. But at least I could say — I could tell myself — that I was working.

Up to and during those days, I’d never spent any time just doing nothing or passing the time sitting outside at a coffee shop or on a barstool with a beer. Unless I was with family or friends, I never spent a few minutes — let alone an hour or more — sitting by myself enjoying the time.

Even when I actually went on the bike ride, I’d ride for an hour — maybe two — and go straight home.

I just couldn’t let myself have that type of downtime.

So weird.

I wasted a lot of time back in those days.

Italy became so important to me because I was so used to everything moving so quickly and being on the go, but then I remember going to a café and sitting and having a coffee and thinking, “I don’t remember the last time I sat down and had a coffee — if I’ve ever sat down and just had a coffee.” I was suddenly learning, through my friends, that eating a meal is more than just sitting down and refuelling.

That’s not me talking.

That’s Harry Styles — from an interview he did in the UK’s Sunday Times.

You might have seen pictures of him online, wandering around Rome or being spotted among the massive crowd when they announced the new Pope. The anti-Taylor Swift, Styles decided to “disappear” for a while after his 22-month tour concluded in 2023.

Spending much of his time in Rome — where it seems he’s able to walk around like Bruce Springsteen does in New York and New Jersey — Styles said he needed to “stop for a bit and pay some attention to other parts of my life.”

For at least a little structure, he started running. He recently completed the Berlin Marathon in under three hours.

The guy’s superhuman.

But sometimes you have to better allocate the things that make you the competent person you think you are.

Sometimes, you over-subscribe to work ethic.

Sometimes, you find a calling in a career at a young age — for me, it was radio — and focus on it almost exclusively, missing out on so much else that life has to offer.

I recall working in Dallas in the late nineties. I cared about nothing other than making it in radio, which — ironically — was helping me struggle to really make it in radio.

A co-worker gave me a lecture in the cubicle area. Paraphrasing — one day you’re going to discover all the world has to offer. You’re going to regret the way you treat radio as the most urgent and important part of your life. You’re going to want to just devour all of this other stuff once you discover it.

I didn’t listen right away. At the time, I blew the guy off — defensively. Maybe I was even a bit of a dick.

I spent the San Francisco years enjoying that city, but not quite to the extent that I enjoy cities today. I studied urban planning. I understood and was deeply intrigued by the idea of public space and the European café culture we — me, my classmates, our profressors — admired. But it took me a long time to live it.

I was focused on work. Whatever that meant.

I’m not sure when things clicked for me. Out of college, I fell into my writing career — around 2008 — and consumed myself with that for several years in Southern California.

My Harry Styles-moment (before Harry had his moment) must have started in Santa Monica — 2014 or 2015-ish.

There is a coffee shop a 2-minute walk from where I used to live. I decided to walk over one day. I’d never regularly drunk coffee before. I’d never even had a latte. But — for some reason — I wanted to try one. I had been writing about Starbucks — the company and stock. Maybe that triggered it.

When I received my first latte at this coffee shop — not a Starbucks —I thought the barista was flirting with me. She drew a heart in my milk foam.

I was clueless.

I wondered about all of these people — the same people every single morning — sitting there and doing nothing but talking and drinking coffee. Whether I went at 8 a.m. or 9 a.m. they were there. The same handful.

They weren’t all unemployed actors or TV writers. Some had money, but they also had jobs. Working actor, TV editor, real estate developer, retired firefighter. Whatever.

One day, I ended up in a conversation with one of them. We became friends. And, slowly but surely, I started spending more time there. I’d talk hockey on the bench outside with this guy until he had to leave to start work. Sometimes, I’d stay longer sitting by myself or talking to someone else. Often, I’d go back in the afternoon and spend an hour — in silence — sitting on the bench watching other people’s lives happen in front of me as I thought about my own.

I became a small player in the stuff I studied and wrote about in college.

Then, I took on a leading role. The café became one of the most important parts of my day.

The pandemic didn’t change things for me. Neither did visiting or later moving to Europe.

A few years before the pandemic when I was working in the bar industry — and writing only part-time — I was putting in 12-hour days. Sometimes longer. But, each morning, I would spend at least one hour sitting in the coffee shop.

After COVID and back writing full-time, my morning always included a walk to the main street where I’d sit — for an hour minimum — with my coffee.

Fast forward to 2025 and now 2026 — living in Valencia, Spain — and the lingering has taken on a life of its own. Because the society, the culture, and the public space is not only conducive to it, it actively encourages it.

One of the first meals we had with new friends here lasted more than three hours. I looked up and the restaurant had been closed around us.

My daily routine includes at least two lingering sessions of at least 30 minutes or (often) more — one that includes my second cup of coffee for the day.

Just this weekend, we sat on a corner terrace, having a menú del día for two hours and 43 minutes. I checked my Google Maps history.

I cringe when people say this, but in this case, it’s actually true.

I finally gave myself permission to enjoy many moments strung together to create a series of experiences that really make a life.

The anxiety I felt on my bike on the top of that hill on Haight Street — a clueless 28-year-old about to become a father — was real. But it robbed me of so much.

I was negotiating with myself over nothing. When the real work could’ve been happening if I had taken the time to do nothing.

I’m convinced that taking that time would’ve made me a better Dad.

It also would’ve enhanced my career.

Working too much did nothing to improve my writing. In fact, it held me back. Now that I live more than I work, I’m a better writer. And it’s not just the experiences feeding me ideas. It’s the time in a different mindset — not in front of the computer — when I craft (in my head, in a notes app, or right in the Medium platform!) some of the work I’m most proud of. And work that actually goes a longer way to paying the bills than obsessing ever did.

When I read that Harry Styles quote, I didn’t think, celebrity awakening.

I thought here’s a guy who realized he could live better. That he could experience his anxiety in a different, more productive context.

I know that I still get anxious. I still feel the pull to justify my time.

The difference now is that I recognize the voice. And, more often than not, I overrule it.