I feel very strongly about one of my relationships.
I feel so strongly that I will stab anyone or anything that tries to come between us.
That’s how seriously I take this commitment.
Anyone who dares to meddle better be ready to suffer the consequences.
Why? Because this relationship is a lifer, a keeper, a forever and ever union.
His name is Coffee, also known as java, joe, café, daily grind, brain juice, mud, murk, plasma, and warmer upper.
My affair with Coffee started at the age of five. Yes, people, five. (That’s what happens when you have a Spanish mother who thinks bread and butter dipped in a cup of java is a perfectly acceptable breakfast.)
By the age of eight coffee was my best friend.
At the age of ten I was doing two shots of espresso.
By fifteen I would kick anyone’s ass who said “eXpresso” instead of “eSpresso.”
In college, my relationship with coffee deepened to the point that it became my lifeline.
It completed me.
It gave me the strength, the motivation, and the will to stay awake and sane through a “so-boring-I-want-to-slash-my-veins” university course called “Logic.”
It also acted as a cheap appetite suppressant and diuretic.
Coffee was my constant through failed friendships, failed relationships, and failed marriages.
It was my Lamaze buddy when I went into labor and it was what I toasted with the day my son was born.
It’s kept me company through bad times, good times, sad times, and “I’m walking to the edge of the ledge and I think I might jump” times.
Coffee is most definitely number one on my list of “Five things I must have if I land on a deserted island,” and I want it to be the last thing I drink right before I croak.
If I didn’t have money for coffee, I would borrow, beg or steal and not necessarily in that order.
If forced to give up either sex or coffee, I would most definitely give up sex. I kid you not.
More importantly, I would have an affair with Juan Valdez in a heartbeat if he promised to give me a lifelong supply of Columbian coffee.
If I wasn’t able to drink coffee, I would be very sad. I wouldn’t be able to write or blog. I would fall into a deep depression. Or I might get really angry and cranky and want to kick everyone’s ass.
Just wanted all of you to know this.
So you don’t mess with my coffee.