Co-ffee-lings

  It is amazing the things one can be jealous of. I’ve had my share of weirdness in life, but this one takes the cake. There is no way to make it sound better, so here it is: I wish I were coffee. Yes, coffee – that hot black beverage that gets you going during the day (or night). It sounds preposterous, but bear with me. There is strong reasoning supporting this thought. Picture your dreams embodied in a single person. Now, think about said person having special fondness for this beverage. There you have it: I’m jealous of what he drinks.

  To be accurate, I wish he would kiss me the way he drinks his coffee… Passionately and consistently throughout the day. He holds his mug so vigorously and each time I wonder how soon he’ll hold me in such way again. Okay, let’s face it: I wish I were the mug, too. This man cannot be oblivious to the fact I crave to be more cherished and desired than his everyday cups of coffee. When he sips it… My knees buckle.

  The closest I have gotten to this ludicrous (?) wish of mine was I, myself, having just drunk coffee, getting my mouth to taste like it. He did kiss me with remarkable enthusiasm those times and it proved to be true that, if I were all coffee, his loving would crash my every bone, metacoffeely speaking.

  I’m just thinking out loud as I make another pot. I have been drinking lots of it, lately. Although I genuinely like it, I believe I have increased my weekly dosage because of him. Yes, I am such a woman. Why do we do the things we do, right?

  He sure tastes coffee more often than he tastes my lips. So, judge away, but this may be a way I can always get to kiss him.