I’m in a deeply committed relationship with coffee. I even have a running hashtag on instagram, “#coffeeismyboyfriend” because let’s face it, no one is ever going to come close to the place that coffee holds in my heart.
Sure the last guy I really liked in any real way struck up an online conversation with flirtatious coffee quips, but I can’t blame him. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and it pretty much bleeds caffeine.
Before you nay-sayers start in on how it tastes like ash or worse, let me tell you that I’m pretty convinced you’ve never had really good coffee if that’s your only reason for hating it.
Really good coffee tastes like heaven.
Okay, but seriously, you have to mix it up. And I’m not talking about frappacinos at Starbucks. There is so little coffee in those things that it is shameful.
I went through my own period of hating coffee too. Then I met a boy who really liked coffee when I was in college and suddenly this drink was a way to hang out with him more.
Shut up. DON’T JUDGE ME. That boy, who turned out to be a total ass in the end, introduced me to the love of my life, so how can I really fault him for his other shortcomings?
Last summer, I truly found a way to love something I thought I would always hate: espresso. It was purely driven by my cheapness and Starbucks lax supervision of their milk station. I would order a triple shot of espresso – because I really need that much caffeine on a daily basis – over ice and then would take my half-filled tumbler of icy blackness over to the milk bar and fill it the rest of the way.
Ice latte at Starbucks: at least $4.00
Ice espresso sneak: $2.10 in a personal cup
I was being seriously careful of my finances last summer, and this was one of my few indulgences. If I could save money on it in some way, I was going to do it. I added a little vanilla flavoring to the mix, and it was like drinking a roasted marshmallow on a regular basis. I still order it regularly.
Since moving into my neighborhood, I have carefully cultivated a relationship with the baristas in walking distance. I know their names. They know mine, and if they don’t they call me some form of love, hun, doll, and I am not offended. They are not smarmy or weird. They just like that I smile at them and say hello and ask how they’re doing instead of grumpily rattling off a coffee order that is more complex than a chemical formula every morning.
Coffee has been with me through thick and thin. It makes me happy when I am sad. It has brought wonderful people and horrible people into my life. It has forced me to grow and change as a result. It is mercurial and unpredictable and can be anything I want it to be on a given day.
Some girls are convinced they will meet the man of their dreams in a bookstore or on a walk on the beach.
I’m pretty sure that if there’s a soulmate out there for me, he’s sipping coffee in a coffee shop I will someday frequent.
All images belong to me.