When I Broke My Coffee Virginity

It was the hottest summer of August when I first had coffee. Why? I was curious and I simply thought, “Hey, it’s over 120 F right now, I can sure use a steamy hot cup of coffee to get me out of my misery much faster.”

I was scouting the city at eighteen trying to find some good places to take some photos when I walked into the popular Canadian coffee shop, “Tim Hortons”

Good old Tim Hortons. Always serving hockey pucks for donuts, but their coffee never lets me down. I bought a small double double for my first exposure and starred at the cup for five minutes to make small talk. I had to get on good terms with this red paper cup. I had to be sure we were on the same side of life. Mainly, I was just waiting for it to cool down.

My first sip is a memorable one. I gagged really bad at the first sip thinking, “How the fuck do people drink this bitter crap?” I heard all the folklore of how it makes you stay alert and make you look pretentious on many Tumblr and Instagram post. This wasn’t to flex my social media ego, I was doing this on the same motive a man on Discovery Channel enters the extreme north just to pass the day by drinking his own piss.

I took a few sips before I fed the coffee to the dirt outside and tossed the cup in the garbage saying, “That was fun. Let’s not do it again.”

But I didn’t stop. Actually, the next day I bought another small coffee and made it double double, then soon I made it a single cream and two sugars and I haven’t stopped.

I’m 22 now and I drink my coffee black. It grew on me and I don’t regret the taste, I love the taste of any coffee. I don’t mind how I take it either. Just less milk and cream is my preferred taste. I’m not much of a diary head due to my borderline celiac problem.

My mom on the other hand says I’m going to die young because I drink too much coffee. Let’s have a special round of a hand for all the strict Asian parents still hustling old tradition of drinking tea every god damn hour.