I Am A Whore

For the last three hours, I've been fighting my coffee addiction. I'm saddened to say that I, once again, lost the battle. After a Sunday where I drank two cups of coffee, plus an Earl Grey tea, my overactive colon is in no way a deterrent from drinking more of this "Colombian Gold".

I used to wonder how people can smoke cigarettes, or drink copious amounts of alcohol. Certainly, we - as human beings - have enough will power to go an entire day without something we know is bad for us. Well, after ten years of pissy self-righteousness, I am now in that same boat.

Goddammit.

I remember being younger and loving coffee. I remember there was a time when a cup of black coffee would actually settle my nerves. However, now I am older, and as the body gets older it can't handle caffeine the way it could. The sweating fits and short breathing are always good clues. So, my alarm went off, and I thought "Not today. I'm going to spare my well-being." But since then, I've nearly told the world to fuck off, thrown my laptop out the window, and spent the rest of the day on my couch, masturbating to scrambled Romania porn.

Clearly, I have a problem.

Lesser men would turn to religion. Greater men would make a more conscious effort to drink tea and take up jogging. I am neither one of those, though. I am simply a man who likes to drink coffee. I admit that I have an addiction, and I don't care if it one day leads to a breakdown in my central nervous system. Coffee motivates me, it gives me a reason to get out of bed. If God and science permitted it, I would take coffee as a mistress and make love to it every morning - using the tiny carbon dioxide knob in its bag as a proper orifice.

In a year when I've been striving for self-improvement, I've learned there are some things about a person you just can't change. Not because that person refuses to change, but because certain choices ultimately are that person. I drink coffee. I would love to have sex with coffee. Perhaps, if I one day end up marrying the entire staff of a Starbucks, this short rumination will provide an answer to the confused observers.

I am a common man. And, right now, I need a cup of joe. Or, I promise, you will get stabbed.