Coffee. It’s not as necessary and transformative as the betches on Instagram summon it to be.
“You are stronger than coffee.”
I had to repeat that to myself as I passed PSL lovers.
After learning that Hillary Clinton doesn’t drink PSL’s because of the calories. You did a little investigation. No, I cannot turn into a pumpkin this fall. I will ditch the lattes, the espressos, the coffee for a week.
You woke up early this morning. Thirty minutes before usual for an interview that didn’t happen. You already decided to go with the suede fall booties even though it is cloudy outside. You check the weather. No rain is on the radar.
It’s time for the journey to work. You are almost there. You walk towards your bus stop.
I Don’t Need Coffee:
“I don’t need coffee,” you reassure yourself.
You turn east to look for the bus. Instead, you see a girl wearing a black shirt inscribed, “I need coffee.”
It’s day seven. SEVEN! without coffee. As the weather turned into autumn, you have survived sans a warm whip creamed PSL, iced Gevalia, or Dunkin Donuts large coffee with cream and sugar.
But, your will power has weakened. You are a basic bitch who needs her morning coffee and afternoon pick me up. You turn your head west and wait for the mack truck to pass before crossing the street to Dunkin Donuts.
A girl brushes past you, “Excuse me!” she snarks.
You rush up to the cash register and order a large hot coffee—just cream—from the familiar face. He hands you the usual. You wrap your fingers around it. Feeling more important as you walk on the sidewalk with your perfunctory beverage. You cross the street again to see your bus coming. You hold the coffee, but don’t sip it.
You get into work and chaos is already ensuing.
It’s just about time to take your first sip.
You go through your messages.
And make plans for your first meeting.
It’s now 35 minutes into your workday. You take the coffee with you. And then as you walk, you finally take you first sip and it’s terrible. TERRIBLE.
You imbibe again.
Nope. Cannot do it.
I use to drink lattes and coffees about 2 to 3 times a day.
And now I open the lid and pour the remainder of the brown liquid blend down the steel drain.
Coffee is a Status Symbol:
I looked at coffee as a status symbol. How important you must be to wait in line and drink a Starbucks blend. How amazing it felt to know that you used all of the energy you had. You are such a machine that you needed coffee to keep going. Because you would keep going.
I never loved coffee. Besides Bigby lattes. (I love them.) But, for all other coffee drinks, I drank them because it made me feel important.
You buy it like a dog returning to its vomit, and then realize it’s vomit. It tastes terrible. It’s not good for you. Not with the whipped cream on top. Not with the simple syrup or added sugar. If you liked it black. Maybe. But you don’t. You don’t like the pumpkin or autumn blends. You don’t like it upside down or straight up. Tall. Decaf. Not a macchiato. But you buy it again. And you pour it down the drain. AGAIN.
And still you sit with your Starbucks on your desk. The steam rises. Because, it’s the one vice you can have. Society has validated it. It’s okay.
It’s not okay to eat a Snicker’s bar in public anymore (even though Halloween is coming). It’s not okay to eat lunch. It’s not okay.
Literally the only vices we can accept are Instagram. Gym time. And Black Coffee.