Wed. Apr 8th, 2020

The Blue & Gray Press

The University of Mary Washington Student Newspaper

According to Amanda…A Coffee User Confesses: How One Girl and One Drink Met

2 min read


I’m a recreational coffee user.  In fact, I pride myself in using only when I really need it, like the morning after a night spent studying into the wee hours of the morning.

Though I like to think I’m not attached to it, some of the paraphernalia I’ve acquired says otherwise: a stoic stainless steel travel mug sits on my desk, patiently waiting to be filled with coffee.

I never thought I would define myself as a coffee drinker.  I was always the type that scoffed at people who swore by coffee to get them through the day.   For years, it was a source of pride.  Not drinking coffee was a testament to my own personal strength.

Then sophomore year happened.   My habit started off innocently enough.  After spending most of the night working on a lab report and a day of classes to go, a cup of coffee seemed harmless.

Unfortunately, I didn’t just have a cup.  I had multiple cups, on an empty stomach.  I made the rookie mistake of being so enthralled by the spike one had given me, that I had another—and then another.  By my sixth cup of coffee in a four-hour time period, I was beyond caffeinated.

For the next few hours, I was on top of a very jittery world.  I marveled over how I had gone for so long without coffee.  All of those sleepy mornings trudging to an 8 a.m. class or late nights memorizing Latin names for plants were missed opportunities.

My euphoria was short lived, though.  At 7 p.m. that day, I crashed.  Feeling lethargic and nauseated, I crawled into bed.  I vaguely remember my roommate nudging me to make sure I was okay.  Each time, I sat up groggily and cursed coffee, swearing it off for life.  When I finally awoke hours later, she looked at me and said, “Maybe coffee just isn’t for you.”  She had a point.

I realized the next day exactly why people continue to drink it: hellish caffeine headaches.   Harkening back to my days of anti-coffee self-righteousness, I decided to go it cold turkey.  The rest of my day was spent with a dull pain jabbing at my temples.

Despite the epic fail that was my first experience with coffee, though, I still drink it.  I’ve found it’s difficult to escape the seductive scent of coffee when the coffee’s spent more time brewing in the morning than I did sleeping the night before. It’s a dark, roasted road to coffee addiction.

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