I’m not a coffee drinker but I love coffee. I came to this conclusion the other night as I was lying awake at 3am. Lying wide awake because I drank coffee that night. At that very moment, I was hating the coffee. Now it’s true that I don’t normally drink coffee except for those times where I will treat myself to a yummy, I-don’t-even-want-to know-the-amount-of-calories-in-it frozen coffee piece of heaven in a plastic cup. But, Armando had made a comment that night that he is one of the few people that can drink coffee before bed and have no problems falling asleep. My competitive nature kicked in and I quickly downed a cold coffee drink we had in the fridge, just to prove to him that I could do it too. Well, 3am and Armando was victoriously snoring next to me as I lied awake, cursing the coffee.
But then my mind started to wander and I soon realized that I don’t hate coffee. In fact, I love it. It creates these connections with others. Memories are made over coffee. I love the social aspect of going out for coffee and I have coffee to thank for that.
The second date I had with Armando was at a house that was converted into a coffee shop, where we had coffee drinks and held hands for the first time. It was at a coffee shop in my hometown where my divorced parents both met up with Armando and I to have their first sit down visit with this new guy in my life and the opportunity to put him in the hot seat. Many travel memories I have with Armando include coffee shop visits from the cute, shoebox-sized cafe in Waterton National Park, Alberta, to the so-expensive-it-made-my-jaw-drop outdoor cafe in Paris.
Coffee has given me so many memories of times with Armando, friends, family and even times when I was alone, sitting and reflecting on life. No, I don’t hate coffee. I love it. Just not at 3 in the morning.