He knows exactly what my body needs, without me having to utter a word.

He makes me happy.

I could not get through a day without him.

No, he's not my lover.

He's my barista.

Sure, it could be the caffeine that I'm addicted to - and not the person crushing the beans - but when it is served with the most sensual smile I have ever seen, I am tempted to ask for a side of phone number with my soy latte.

I have known other girl who, like me, have developed a crush on their barista.

It doesn't hurt that many of these boys tend to be handsome and friendly.

And while my ex-boyfriends seemed to struggle with my birthday and our anniversary, it is nice that at least one man in my life remembers exactly how I like my caffeine hit, no matter how many other women he is serving.

I have a cute one in Kogarah but I know one girl who considered heading into the city on her day off, just to get a coffee and a perve at her favourite barista.

I guess it serves baristas equally well to flirt back with their customers.

With so much competition in the cafe/cute barista stakes, it helps if they can offer you a hot beverage with a little something extra on the side.

But I wonder.

Could it be the increased heart rate that is a known side effect of caffeine or does my pulse quicken because I have really fallen for the man behind the coffee machine?

Who knows.

In the end, a crush on your barista can't hurt anyone unless you start amping up the visits to get your fix.

Then you'll have not only a damaged wallet, but jittery nerves and possibly a broken heart, too.