Coffee is my love language.
I know what you’re thinking, and no, it is, in fact, not one of the five that you’ll hear about in the book; you didn’t just miss one. I took that quiz, and my percentages were basically the same, so you could say that I’m just needy across the board. You may also think that I sound like a caffeine addict, which I don’t think I am (though some who know me might disagree).
I came to an epiphany of sorts a while ago. Whenever anyone seemed down and needed encouragement, my response was always to ask, “How do you drink your coffee (or tea. I don’t discriminate)?” Whenever I wanted to say thank you to someone, it was almost always, “Can I bring you coffee?” I would say, “Let’s meet for coffee!” excitedly every time someone suggested hanging out. I kept bringing my coworkers coffee even after I was no longer working there because I knew how much that little boost helped me during my time there.
My cousin introduced me to coffee when I was about twelve, assuming I remember correctly. That’s not always a given, but in this case, I’m pretty sure. Anyway, the exact age isn’t significant. In my opinion, at the time, she was a cool teenager in high school, and I was a lame middle schooler at a small private school who knew nothing of the world outside of it. One day, I was staying with her, and she took me to this wonderful place called Starbucks. It was there that I was introduced to the ever-iconic drink of teenage white girls in America (especially in 2014): the Frappuccino®. There was no real coffee in the one I got, but still; I felt cool. I felt adult. It wasn’t long before actual coffee was added, and even at that point, I was still more hooked on feeling mature than anything else.
Getting coffee together became our thing, and we did it every time we were together. If one or both of us needed to work, we would drive to Starbucks. If we needed a pick-me-up, we would drive to Starbucks. If we just wanted to hang out and get out of the house, we would drive to Starbucks. It was, and still is, the way we work best together. The best conversations happen on the way to and from Starbucks.
My parents weren’t coffee drinkers during my entire childhood and, therefore, never understood my fixation. They did, however, indulge it somewhat. My mother liked tea, and she and I would go to Starbucks together as well, though we did more of our bonding over our mutual rewards points than anything else. Still, it was nice. We would drive through together on the way to choir practice, not totally caring if we were a little late, and laughed at the sideways glances we would get when we walked in with our cups, still hot.
I had been going for a while by this point, but 2017 was when I was finally able to start my own account.
Then, I got older, and I became a snob. I still am, to a certain degree, and I’m happy to say it. No longer satisfied with corporate chains, I decided that I needed to broaden my coffee-drinking horizons. You could say that I had a slight superiority complex about the whole thing. Only a slight one; I was definitely never obnoxious about the whole thing.
Regardless, I decided to start going to as many small coffee shops as I could. This was a little difficult considering my town was small, and at the time I had basically no way of getting anywhere. I basically ended up sticking with the two that were in walking distance and didn’t experiment more than a little bit. What can I say? I like chocolate coffee.
I realized I had reached Lorelai Gilmore-esque levels of addiction in high school when in the span of two days I was somewhat loudly acknowledged at two different coffee shops across town. I went into my favorite hometown coffee shop, and before the person working the counter could even ask me what my order was, the owner of the shop burst out with “Large mocha. Iced or hot today?” and all I could do was laugh because I hadn’t realized how predictable I was until that point. The next day, my dad and I went through a Starbucks drive-thru (they’re just so convenient), and the barista at the window thought she recognized him in the driver’s seat. She was curious why he didn’t get “his usual,” and he said that the only person in the car with a regular order was me. She loo.ked down into the car (which is very low to the ground, mind you) and was almost shouting when she said, “Oh, it’s you!” She didn’t say it in any kind of offensive tone, as she sounded more surprised than anything, but I still couldn’t help but feel a little attacked.
You could say that coffee shops have always been somewhat of a safe haven for me. The sounds of the machines whirring and grinding against the chatter of people combine to become a beautiful cacophony. The smells of freshly made coffee and baked goods entice you to stay and savor it just a little while longer. The heat from the cup warms your hands as you take a drink, and the warmth moves throughout your body, seemingly working its way into your soul. If you’re basic like me and primarily drink mochas, the bitter combines with the sweet in a way that begs you to wake up enough to enjoy it.
The very same coffee shop where I unintentionally turned my friend into the face of caffeine addiction
As I write this, I’m sitting in the coffee shop where my roommates and I spend many of our afternoons because it’s the only place we seem to be capable of working. Every time the owner sees us, he says hello and asks how we’re doing. The atmosphere is as if the shop itself is inviting you in. In their case, the fact that the coffee is superior to most is only an added benefit.
It never has been–and never will be–just about the coffee. It’s about the late-night drives to wherever happens to be open when you’re with a friend and not yet ready to go home. It’s about the local shop where the owner knows your name and has your drink ready before you even make it to the counter. It’s about driving several hours to make it home, and your mom offers you espresso to wake up the next morning because she knows you don’t wake up after a day of travel without strong motivation. It’s about home, no matter what person, place, or thing that might mean. It’s about connection.
All of this to say, if you ever see me while you’re out, say hello and we can grab some coffee.
