Table for two

You chose the oldest coffee house in the city to see me for the first time and I chose my freshest yellow blouse to wear. I put my hair up high, and I wore the lipstick that fetches me compliments in a bunch. My roommate looked stunned when she saw me. I hadn't seen her stunned in a while. And I haven't seen you smile so much in while, she said.
I took a cab today and not the bus, I wanted to reach you sooner. I figured I could splurge the money I'd save from not going to an expensive place today and because I don't want you to see my awkward entrance.
My stomach's grumbling, honestly. You said I should save up some space for the best masala dosa of my life. And surprisingly, I did not even list down any potential topics to bring up when the conversation would go dry after we run out of things to talk about. You said you liked to listen to me talk about books on the phone, it made me sure you were my perfect old school romantic.
I also picked some daisies to put in the water glass on our table us just so I could bring up "we're more than friends who share sunflowers and less than the lovers who share roses!"
I, for the first time, did not pack my diary and a pen and so I had to borrow a tissue from the lady on the left and a pen from the man on the counter to write this. The waiters seem to be closing for the day and I'd better leave in my crumpled yellow blouse and a coffee-flavoured tongue. I'm leaving behind a bill for a coffee for one on a table for two.