We've seen it dozens of times at this tucked-away branch of the java chain. She comes in first, a little nervous, not sure exactly whom to make eye contact with. Order a frapp or wait to see if he shows up and offers to buy? She sits, checks her lip gloss, tries to look relaxed. Then he arrives: Dockers, Polo shirt, a little too much cologne. "Are you?" he says. "I am!" she says. They take a table by the window and start the "tell me about yourself" routine, filling in the stuff they couldn't say on Match.com. Meanwhile, Amanda, Aileen, Albert, Jeff and the other nice baristas efficiently whip up the mocha-choke-a-lattes and will even bring them to the table, like in a real caf. The date-friendly ambience means the music's never too loud, the whir of coffee machines (stuck way at the back of the shotgun-style room) don't drown out a good joke and the parking lot is close by if escape from a potential date-turned-stalker is needed.