Spoiler Alert: It’s Complicated But I’ll Never Leave it
Let’s get something straight right off the bat: I used to think coffee was absolutely disgusting. Like, “who would willingly drink this bitter dirt water?” levels of disgusting. Now I’m that person who gets genuinely excited to go to bed because it means morning coffee is that much closer. How did we get here? It’s complicated, as all great love stories are.
What started as a necessity has blossomed into the greatest romance of my adult life. Coffee has seen me at my worst hungover, heartbroken, 3 seconds away from a public meltdown and at my best, 6:37 AM with messy hair, no bra, and big plans.
This isn’t just caffeine. This is **emotional support in liquid form.** So yeah, today we’re talking about me and coffee. Our beautiful, messy, overly caffeinated relationship.
The “Ew, Gross” Phase
Fast forward to my job in the media in Miami. Everyone’s hanging out at the building’s cafeteria, looking cool and sophisticated with cafecito cubano in their hands, while I’m ordering hot chocolate like a little girl. But peer pressure is real, y’all. So I took the gateway drug approach: I finally accepted a little cup.
“OMG, what is that?”
“Shut up, I’ll start for its taste, The Cuban coffee is characterized by its intense sweetness and strong, dark roast flavor. The sugar is added to the coffee before brewing, which contributes to its unique sweetness and the formation of the crema. But how was it?
First sip: “Oh wow, this is sweet!”
Second sip: “Wait… why am I sweating?”
Third sip: “Did I just see the future?”
Literally, it’s a shot of pure gasoline, and my body couldn’t handle the intensity, and it sent me straight to the bathroom—I had a very bad time.
It wasn’t romantic. It was survival. But even then, I knew there was something special.
The effect of Cuban coffee feel like
0–2 minutes: Feel your ancestors awaken.
3–5 minutes: Start speaking faster. Possibly in Spanglish.
6–10 minutes: Solve three life problems and clean your entire house.
11+ minutes: Begin vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.
Getting Serious: I Know Your Name and I Order You Daily
Then I discovered espresso. Lattes. Cortados. Almond milk, Oat milk.
Suddenly, coffee wasn’t just fuel it was a vibe. A ritual. A little pocket of peace in the chaos of work and adult-life. My daily cup became a sacred moment.
The world could be falling apart, but if I had a mug in hand, it was like my own little force field of sanity. If that’s not love, what is?
The Obsession Era
At some point, things got intense. I started researching beans. I got a French machine press. A milk frother. Nothing to do with the trending coffee pods. I want to taste something authentic, organic, strong with flavor and smell.
But it wasn’t about showing off. It was about devotion. You know how people talk about “slow living”? That’s what coffee gave me. A reason to pause. A little ceremony. A sensual morning affair with flavor and foam.
The Breakups: “Maybe I Should Quit You…”
Of course, every great love story has conflict. There have been times when I thought maybe coffee was… too much. Like:
– When my hands started shaking halfway through my third cup
– When I laid in bed wide awake, eyes like cartoon owls.
I’d whisper those heartbreaking words: “Maybe I should cut back.” And sometimes I did. For a week. Maybe two. I’d switch to tea, trying to pretend it was the same. (It’s not. Tea is nice. Coffee is necessary.)
But I always came back. Because the truth is, coffee never betrayed me. It just asked for a little moderation. Like any healthy relationship.
BTW! As time went by and like a true masochist, I gave Cuban coffee another chance. This time, the experience didn’t send me running to the bathroom, and after working through all the trauma, we now have the best relationship ever.
The Forever Phase
I’ve accepted it. Coffee is my forever. We’ve been through highs, lows, questionable pods, overpriced lattes, and that dark season where I thought maybe matcha would replace it.
(Spoiler: it didn’t. It’s cute, but it’s not coffee.)
This relationship is no longer casual. It’s deep. I bring my own creamer when I travel. I judge Airbnb hosts by their coffee setup.
That’s not dependence, that’s commitment.
So yeah, maybe coffee isn’t perfect. Maybe it gives me anxiety if I overdo it. Maybe it stains my teeth. But it also gives me comfort, focus, and a tiny piece of joy every morning.
