Hot, Steamy Love

Valentine's season is here, the one time of the year where all people, rich or poor, male or female, young or old, are encouraged to feel bad about themselves. I think it's about time we focus on what we really love, and what really loves us back.

After much soul searching I've decided that the only thing which fits that description is coffee. Coffee has been by me through thick and thin. It has always been there, looking hot, waiting for me. It's with me first thing in the morning and on my mind last thing at night. Coffee can be different every day. But I know it's the same old coffee. My coffee.

You know you want me

Coffee has outlasted all my relationships and all my friendships. Coffee doesn't call me in the middle of the night, but in the middle of the night, I can turn to coffee. Coffee has never said to me "I have a headache," but is ready to soothe me when my head is aching. Coffee has never hesitated to come with me to work, or to court, or to the DMV. Coffee waits for me outside the dentist's office, I've even seen coffee in jail. Coffee doesn't care what my breath smells like. When I come home late at night, I only smell like coffee.

And do I need to mention how available coffee is? Coffee is always ready to go, even right when I wake up. I can get some whenever I want. I can even get some at work, in the break room, every single day.

I won't lie to you, it hasn't all been smooth and creamy all the time. There have been rough patches. There have been times my heart's been beating too hard and my head's spinning and I say, "This is going too fast." There have been times I've had enough, and said "I'm sorry, I have to give you up." But in just a few days there's this awful feeling in my chest and my hands are shaking and I come crawling back.

It's not easy for a man to say I need you. But I can't deny it. Coffee, I need you.

So this Self-Torture day, instead of flowers or candy, send coffee. Nothing says "You keep me up all night" like coffee. Coffee is stronger than perfume and lasts longer than flowers. You can even put chocolate in it. Still, remember, at the end of the day who's waiting in the kitchen or on the street corner for you? When you die, who will be passing around among the mourners at your funeral? Coffee.

Really, it doesn't matter how many dates you had, or how many hearts you've broken, or how many broken hearts you've suffered, or how many awful poems you've written about said broken hearts. The only thing that matters at the end of the day is the extent of your chemical dependencies. In the end, my autopsy will reveal to all, yes, Coffee, I love you.