Coffee? Why dost thou hate me so? My heart yearns for you. Well, not really my heart… my tastebuds, actually. Yes! YES! My tastebuds yearn for your richness, your robust essence.
And yet… you mock me. You entice me with that rich aroma, those dark good looks. Most mornings, I pass you by. My willpower helps me ignore you long enough to reach for the hot water spigot that provides the goodness that becomes my green tea. Green tea does not spite me… nay, green tea makes me feel good all over. But not you. No. You do not.
When I give in to you, O Majestic Java, you chortle silently whilst supplying me that instant gratification. As I mix my Coffee Mate into your cup, you eagerly welcome your Chai or Amaretto-flavored accomplice, all the while knowing the havoc you soon will wreak on my innards. Within minutes of drinking down your creamy-tasting cruelty, my stomach says, “WTF???” Loudly. In fact, all my cubemates can hear its protesting:
Cubemate 1: WHAT was that?
Cubemate 2: Grumpy must be drinking coffee again.
Cubemate 1: [to Grumpy] Hey! Could you pipe down over there? Some of us are trying to work! If you can’t give up coffee, you’ll have to take your stomach and all its griping outside.
Me: [sheepishly] Sorry, everyone.
Mais oui, Café. This means war. Don’t think for one second that you can trick me. Your multiple personalities cannot be my friends, either. Decaf, Half-caf, “Stomach-Friendly”—they’re all just as bad as you are where it concerns my dainty, gastrointestinal anatomy.
So, I say this to you… we’re done. I am giving up on you. FOREVER! You shall no longer hold sway with me. I mean it! This is it! No more.
But… maybe I should have one more cup before we part ways for good. Kind of like break-up sex, ya know what I mean?