More Coffee, Please
My coffee needs have become more demanding, lately, and I think I know the culprit. By more demanding, I mean to say that I now have at least three or four cups a day, and I almost always want an extra shot of espresso. I like iced coffee now because I'm trying to preserve my pretty, white teeth. It also (coincidentally) tastes really, really good. I get coconut milk as a substitute for my usual half & half so that I don't blow up the bathroom in the duration of my work day at the office, and I drink it faster than you've ever seen anyone finish off a Venti Iced Vanilla Blonde latte from Starbucks. With an extra shot.
I used to hate people like me. I used to roll my eyes at them, hearing their ridiculous orders. I used to drink my hot coffee just as fast as I now drink it iced. I used to be a lot less high maintenance, too, ordering the first thing off of the menu and not thinking twice about it. I was younger, as well, and a little more care-free. I used to put copious amounts of sugar in my coffee before I turned totally bitter. I am a fast drinker, in general, but my coffee intake has become something beyond reproach. I think that if I were to give it up for a week that I'd start to suffer from caffeine migraines. I haven't tried it yet, and I'm not going to. I gave up caffeine for Lent one year and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. People told me I was crazy, and I now agree with them. I even used to claim that caffeine made me more tired. I used to drink it before bed like some drink hot milk, or a hot toddy. I used to believe it, too, quoting lyrics from "Meet Virginia" like it was bible:
"She only drinks coffee at midnight
When the moment is not right
Her timing is quite
Unusual."
I'd do it mostly for the shock factor. I liked surprising people in my youth, and I used to make up all sorts of lies about myself. I used to say things like:
"I eat flowers."
It wasn't a lie, though; I did eat flowers as a child. I bit the heads off of clovers. I sucked on honeysuckle quite frequently, as it grew in the woods near my house. I used to eat the tips of match sticks; they were salty, and if you dared me to do any of these precarious things for you right now, I probably would. Truth is, I'd do it and I'd laugh right along with you, enjoying the adrenaline that comes with people's surprised expressions and dramatic reactions. I live for that shit.
Anyway, back to coffee. I think I know why I crave coffee more than I ever have, and it has nothing to do with the attorney that I have to do increasingly bigger amounts of work for every day. It has nothing to do with the fact that I just got off my period. It has nothing to do with my house-sitting and the fact that it has fueled some pretty narcoleptic behavior, due to the fact that three dogs wake me up at least two or three times a night, begging to go outside and relieve themselves.
No, none of these things are the issue. The issue, dear friends, is me. It's the weird chaos that is called my life, and if I'm being completely honest, it's my love life. I am one of those serial daters that everyone hates. I am one of those girls that is never left alone, not completely. There's always someone pestering me, and this isn't a brag or a boast, it's just plain old fact. The truth of the matter, though, is that when no one is interested in me, I start to panic. I start to fret about how much time I've got left and whether or not I'll ever have kids. I start to wonder about what age menopause might hit and why my periods are becoming increasingly worse over the years. I start to wonder if maybe they're getting worse because my body's punishing me for not having kids when I'm at my prime-time-baby-making age?
And then my ex hits me up, and everything that I've ever built up, including my very carefully cultivated self-esteem, goes up in smoke.
And I crave coffee. I crave it like nobody craves anything in this world, y'all. I think about it as soon as I wake up, and I contemplate getting it at the end of the day. I've just got so much to do, ya know? I've got to have that third or fourth cup. It's just ridiculous. I mean, why should it matter so much that no one is romantically interested in me? I still look like I'm seventeen when I'm right on the borderline of thirty. I'm turning twenty-eight in June, and people still mistake me for a teenager. I get ID'd everywhere I go. People tell me that it's a good thing, and maybe they're right. Maybe I should enjoy my good looks a little bit more than I do, but it's actually pretty hard when I'm juggling about four different jobs, five different versions of "best friends" and an ex that hasn't spoken to me in about six years that is now stalking my Snapchat story every-single-time I post a selfie.
Yes, y'all, I'm talking about bread-crumbing. I am talking about that hard-to-accept, horrible dating habit that terrible, awful people have started to adapt and make a regular thing. It's just as bad as "ghosting," if not worse. I mean, six years? Come the fuck on. I deserve way better than that, but you know what? I opened it, I read it, and I responded.
Boom.
More coffee, please.
I used to hate people like me. I used to roll my eyes at them, hearing their ridiculous orders. I used to drink my hot coffee just as fast as I now drink it iced. I used to be a lot less high maintenance, too, ordering the first thing off of the menu and not thinking twice about it. I was younger, as well, and a little more care-free. I used to put copious amounts of sugar in my coffee before I turned totally bitter. I am a fast drinker, in general, but my coffee intake has become something beyond reproach. I think that if I were to give it up for a week that I'd start to suffer from caffeine migraines. I haven't tried it yet, and I'm not going to. I gave up caffeine for Lent one year and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. People told me I was crazy, and I now agree with them. I even used to claim that caffeine made me more tired. I used to drink it before bed like some drink hot milk, or a hot toddy. I used to believe it, too, quoting lyrics from "Meet Virginia" like it was bible:
"She only drinks coffee at midnight
When the moment is not right
Her timing is quite
Unusual."
I'd do it mostly for the shock factor. I liked surprising people in my youth, and I used to make up all sorts of lies about myself. I used to say things like:
"I eat flowers."
It wasn't a lie, though; I did eat flowers as a child. I bit the heads off of clovers. I sucked on honeysuckle quite frequently, as it grew in the woods near my house. I used to eat the tips of match sticks; they were salty, and if you dared me to do any of these precarious things for you right now, I probably would. Truth is, I'd do it and I'd laugh right along with you, enjoying the adrenaline that comes with people's surprised expressions and dramatic reactions. I live for that shit.
Anyway, back to coffee. I think I know why I crave coffee more than I ever have, and it has nothing to do with the attorney that I have to do increasingly bigger amounts of work for every day. It has nothing to do with the fact that I just got off my period. It has nothing to do with my house-sitting and the fact that it has fueled some pretty narcoleptic behavior, due to the fact that three dogs wake me up at least two or three times a night, begging to go outside and relieve themselves.
No, none of these things are the issue. The issue, dear friends, is me. It's the weird chaos that is called my life, and if I'm being completely honest, it's my love life. I am one of those serial daters that everyone hates. I am one of those girls that is never left alone, not completely. There's always someone pestering me, and this isn't a brag or a boast, it's just plain old fact. The truth of the matter, though, is that when no one is interested in me, I start to panic. I start to fret about how much time I've got left and whether or not I'll ever have kids. I start to wonder about what age menopause might hit and why my periods are becoming increasingly worse over the years. I start to wonder if maybe they're getting worse because my body's punishing me for not having kids when I'm at my prime-time-baby-making age?
And then my ex hits me up, and everything that I've ever built up, including my very carefully cultivated self-esteem, goes up in smoke.
And I crave coffee. I crave it like nobody craves anything in this world, y'all. I think about it as soon as I wake up, and I contemplate getting it at the end of the day. I've just got so much to do, ya know? I've got to have that third or fourth cup. It's just ridiculous. I mean, why should it matter so much that no one is romantically interested in me? I still look like I'm seventeen when I'm right on the borderline of thirty. I'm turning twenty-eight in June, and people still mistake me for a teenager. I get ID'd everywhere I go. People tell me that it's a good thing, and maybe they're right. Maybe I should enjoy my good looks a little bit more than I do, but it's actually pretty hard when I'm juggling about four different jobs, five different versions of "best friends" and an ex that hasn't spoken to me in about six years that is now stalking my Snapchat story every-single-time I post a selfie.
Yes, y'all, I'm talking about bread-crumbing. I am talking about that hard-to-accept, horrible dating habit that terrible, awful people have started to adapt and make a regular thing. It's just as bad as "ghosting," if not worse. I mean, six years? Come the fuck on. I deserve way better than that, but you know what? I opened it, I read it, and I responded.
Boom.
More coffee, please.
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