An open letter of love to coffee

Dear Coffee,

Let me recount the ways in which I love thee.

Ours is a passionate relationship. I remember the first time you lured me away from my first love of hot chocolate. It was a lazy, sunny afternoon and all it took was a knowing wink from a Barista to introduce me to your kiss via a mocha and the beginnings of a passionate affair were planted all over my post-teen moustache.

Soon the tingle of your touch was being desired more and more. I longed for the jolt that arose within me when we met. As my passions for you grew, I found myself spending more time and more money in your presence.

Before I knew it, I had turned my life upside down for you. My career, weekends, cash flow and concentration were all directed at your rich caramel complexion. I even upgraded my underwear which is a decision I still don't quite understand.

Secure in your arms, we travelled the world together. We danced hand to lip across the cafes of Melbourne, Singapore, Korea, Hong Kong, US and Canada. You introduced me to exotic flavours from Timor, Ethiopia, El Salvador, Guatemala and beyond...

You never flinched when I made efforts to spice up our love life. Bringing in the Aeropress or the Cold Drip, playing with the grind and experimenting with different profiles.

I always swore I wouldn't end up with you, but here we are, some 15 years later. I once thought we would get married, but in this backwards country, love between man and beverage still isn't validated. Maybe after they legalise polygamy and objectphilia we have our space.

I fear that things have dulled. I notice myself considering new temptations. I confess on lonely, cold nights to flirting with herbal teas and I even found myself googling Kombucha to find out exactly what the heck it is (turns out it is old seaweed, mashed seagull all fermented in old teabags).

Why is this? Have we become set in our ways? We never really stray from the same couple of order positions... strong flat whites , the occasional magic on special occasions and public holidays. Maybe we should look to change things up? I hear nitro cold brew is exciting. But then they said the same thing about carrot leg jeans and that just ended up looking like my thighs were pregnant.

Maybe it is social media's obsession with you? It seems you are always first. But what if you are suddenly second?

In my old age, others will beckon me. Tea, Soylent, probiotics and wild seal milk (it will be a thing...at least my fund manager thinks so). 

But they are not for me.

I will still chase the hard edge of your cup on my lip and the following feeling in my stomach that is a mixture of love and the natural laxative effect of your presence.