From Catherine Collentine.
I’ve questioned having kids ever since I learned that pregnant women can’t have caffeine. The thought of going nine months without my daily coffee habit completely guts me; I get a chill down my spine, akin only to the feeling I get when I revisit my middle school bangs phase. Am I an addict? No, of course not. I’m just in a committed relationship with my coffee.
Ours is an enduring love, that has grown and matured as I have. Sure, I’ve had brief flings with matcha and chai lattes after listening to friends. They tell me that coffee doesn’t have my best interest at heart. They tell me coffee puts itself, not me, first – plus, it has too much caffeine.
I’ve temporarily made the switch to tea in the past, but that’s a life I don’t want to lead. Where’s the buzz? The excitement? The twitch from having too many cups before noon? I’m picking the liquid in the motorcycle jacket, not the liquid in a polo shirt that’s good on paper.
My coffee understands me. It’s always there for me, season after season, adapting to my needs and knowing what I want most. Relationships are about compromise, after all. Had a long day? I’ll try it in a cocktail. Cutting out dairy for the week? It blends perfectly well with cashew, almond, soy, or coconut milk. It’s cold brew in the summer and piping hot in the winter. Even after a rough night out, I go to bed knowing that my coffee will be there for me in the morning. Coffee is like pizza; even when it’s bad, it’s so so good.
We’ve had our ups and downs, a few bumps in the road. Conflict always comes when we try to spice things up (monogamy can get monotonous). Like the time I tried making butter-coffee, but didn’t buy quality butter, so my usual morning pick-me-up tasted like an oil slick. I was trying to make my coffee something it just wasn’t, and that never works.
When I picture myself in five years, it’s always with a cup of coffee. That’s the gut instinct I try to go with. Even on days we’re more platonic, my coffee is still my work wife – the drink I turn to most for emotional support, that says to me “Hey girl, you got this”
We may not always be a perfect match – I do worry about ulcers more than I’d care to admit – but our love is certainly one for the ages. Even if it turns out that we were doomed from the start, at least we had all those morning commutes together.