Caffeine, Commitment Issues, & Other Morning Disasters
Last night, I tossed and turned like a madd faery. My head and neck were finally done with the old pillow that lost its shape years ago and didn't give a crap about me anymore. As if that wasn't enough to deal with, my brain refused to shut up. It replayed every bad decision I'd made since 2003, and then guess who came to visit. Mr. Arthritis! The rude, aggressive, and unwelcome pervert just had to clasp my hips and feet; he never held himself accountable and just blamed all my pain on the weather.
By sunrise, I felt like a thunderstorm and a mild existential crisis had hit me. Still, there was hope — warm, rich, caffeinated hope: my Mr. Coffee. We’ve been through so much together. Deadlines. Breakups. Mondays. He’s seen me at my best and my bedhead worst. I thought we had a forever thing going. I filled the water, scooped the grounds, pressed the button, and waited for that comforting drip-drip-drop symphony that says, “You’ve got this.”
Except—silence.
Cold, cruel, caffeine-less silence.
No drips. No steam. Not even a polite hiss. Just a glowing red light staring back at me like, “I’m on… but not for you.”
No drips. No steam. Not even a polite hiss. Just a glowing red light staring back at me like, “I’m on… but not for you.”
That’s when I realized: my coffee maker had left me just like my boyfriend (gone fiance back to boyfriend and then baby daddy) of 8 years.
Just like ex, Mr. Coffee promised his time, warmth, protection, consistency, and fresh starts — but when things got hot, he just shut down.
I tried everything. I unplugged it. Replugged it. Whispered sweet nothings. Gave it space. Started to hide away a little bit of myself with each of his refusal to try. Nothing. Just dead silence and the faint smell of betrayal.
So, I did what any caffeine-deprived woman on the verge would do and started desperately seeking a replacement. Straight to Starbucks I went. Knowing I had to be extra careful about my calories now that I was alone, I ordered a skim pumpkin spice latte. I truly thought it would taste like comfort and healing, but sadly, instead, it just tasted like burnt water wearing a cozy sweater. It was disappointment in a cup. I searched within my memories to the last time I had had a decent cup coffee even before Mr. Coffee had come into the picture. That's when I remembered Mr. French Press. I made my way to where I had left it, tucked away in my attic next to a box of half-burnt candles and broken dreams. Still in its original box and looking better than ever before there it was, my backup plan. My rebound.
We hadn’t seen each other in years, but desperate times call for desperate caffeine. I took it back to the kitchen, dusted it off, poured in the grounds, added hot water, and let it steep. And I’ll admit… it wasn’t perfect, but it listened. It tried. It gave effort. And honestly? That’s more than I can say for half the men I’ve dated and every coffee maker I’ve ever owned.
Don't Let Your Coffee Maker Define Your Worth
Shop My Picks: Coffee Makers That Won’t Ghost You
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If you’re tired of being left for cold, here are a few reliable partners that will actually show up when you need them:
☕ 1. The Loyal One — Keurig K-Supreme Plus Smart Brewer
He’s consistent, fast, and texts (beeps) you when he’s ready. Never flakes, never burns out, and he even remembers your favorite settings. Take notes, humans.
🔥 2. The Overachiever — Ninja DualBrew Pro System #ad
Espresso? Cold brew? Drip? He does it all. The kind of multitasker who makes you wonder if you should’ve raised your standards years ago.
💞 3. The Quiet Type — Breville Bambino Plus Espresso Maker #ad
Smooth, sleek, and surprisingly sensitive. He doesn’t talk much, but the coffee? Deep, rich, and emotionally healing.
🕰️ 4. The Reliable Classic — Mr. Coffee 10-Cup Programmable Brewer #ad
Okay, maybe I’ll forgive this Mr. Coffee. He’s learned from his mistakes. Programmable, steady, and committed to the long-term brew.
💋 5. The Rebound — Bodum Chambord French Press #ad
The one who got you through the heartbreak. Low maintenance, no electricity, just pure effort. Sometimes, the old flames really do come through.
The next morning?
I’ll be honest — I felt rejuvenated. There I was, standing in my robe, manually pumping that French press like my life depended on it. One of those things I never wanted to do with Mr. Coffee was because of the way he expected and demanded it. Mr. Coffee put in minimal effort and, over the years, completely stopped pretending he had any respect for me at all. But in that moment, with the French press, it felt… right.
Desperate. Sad. But right.
Now I’m sitting here, sipping from my mug, exhausted, bitter, and cautiously optimistic. I don’t just want coffee anymore — I want commitment, time, mutual respect, and unselfish love. I want something dependable and emotionally mature. Maybe even one that plays music when it’s ready — reassurance matters.
Because the next “Mr.” in my kitchen, better come with a life-time warranty.