Today, I woke up with the tenderest of heartaches for a former lover who shared my attraction to coffee. From the start of our whirlwind situation-ship, we used coffee as an excuse to talk to each other, texting photos of our morning brews and bags of new single origins we'd tried recently. It was one of our many mutual interests, one of the sweeter, lighter ones. After months of ambiguity and hurt feelings, we stopped seeing each other, but a working relationship and a coffee connection persisted.
He was so strongly associated with the stuff in my mind that I used to think of him anytime I encountered coffee on my travels. I brought him beans from three origin countries, which we often drank together at work. The last time we saw each other, he gave me a ride home from a professional event. I was in the front seat with two airpots, half-full of brewed coffee, at my feet. The smell enveloped the whole car, and I like to think it opened us up, lubricating what had recently been a pretty awkward working relationship. The conversation was warm and lively, and for a brief moment, two people who had so often failed to click were finally able to flow.
Do you have a story about coffee and love lost, or love found? Tell it to me, please.