I LIKE COFFEE. I JUST DON’T LIKE DRINKING IT.

I like the smell. A lot.

In fact, I like it so much that sometimes I ask people to let me smell their coffee.

Yes, I know. Written like that, it sounds weird.

But there’s something about the smell of coffee that I love. The aroma, the ritual, the warm cup, that moment when someone sits down and it feels as if the world slows down for five minutes.

The problem starts when it’s time to actually drink it.

Black coffee? I can’t do it.

And then there are those cases where someone might actually like something… but their body decides to join the conversation and vote against it.

Some people love coffee and simply can’t tolerate it. Their heart starts racing, their stomach protests, their whole body calls a general meeting, and the conclusion is:

“Lovely espresso. But not for you.”

Which proves that sometimes it isn’t even a matter of taste. Some relationships end because of incompatibility. Even relationships with coffee.

But coffee with milk, in a very specific ratio of 80% milk and 20% coffee, is a completely different story. That I can handle. I get to take part in the ritual without feeling as though I’m being punished for something I did in a previous life.

And now comes the most contradictory part:

I have two coffee machines at home.

Two.

For guests, obviously. 🤣

Because I may not drink coffee, but I do have manners.

Actually, I even enjoy making coffee for other people. I like the smell it leaves around the house, I like serving it, and I like that little moment when someone picks up the cup and looks perfectly satisfied.

Just don’t ask me to drink the same thing.

Some people say you should never trust someone who doesn’t drink coffee.

I think that’s a very serious accusation.

I don’t drink coffee, and I consider myself a fairly trustworthy person.

Of course, that’s my own opinion, so perhaps I’m not the most impartial source.

Still.

I find it funny how something as ordinary as coffee can almost divide people into categories: those who can’t function before their first coffee, those who drink five a day, those who debate brands, machines, grind size, intensity… and then there’s me.

I just want to smell it.

Sometimes I look at someone with a perfect espresso and think:

“That must taste as good as it smells.”

Then I remember that it doesn’t.

And I carry on with my life.

Maybe this is my relationship with coffee:

I like the idea, I like the atmosphere, I like the ritual, I like the smell, but…

hold it right there!

And come to think of it, maybe there are more things in life like that.

Things we love from a distance, but that somehow lose a little of their charm when they get too close.