They say that there’s someone out there for every person, and I want to believe them. I just can’t help but wonder…will anyone love me once they find out that I’m a TOTAL caffeine addict?
OMG—I can’t believe I just admitted that! Looks like there’s no going back now.
I’ve been searching for love for my whole adult life. But every time I think I’ve found The One, I end up cutting it off before it gets too serious. The massive, shameful, socially unacceptable secret of my caffeine addiction (and the pathetic shell of a person it reduces me to) keeps getting in the way of me finding true happiness. It’s hard to even talk about, and I’m worried that I’ll never find someone who could ever love me in spite of this skeleton in my closet.
Caffeine has been a problem for me for almost as long as I can remember. And it shouldn’t come as a shock that as soon as I was old enough, I downloaded a Starbucks rewards app onto my phone. I mean, can you say, “elephant in the room”?! Sometimes I wonder why these men don’t immediately call 911 on me—I mean, I know they can smell it on my breath. God, I’m such a disaster!
It’s not like I don’t date—things start off normal enough, as long as he doesn’t suggest a coffee date. That’s when things get embarrassing. I always get scared that I’ll send a guy running for the hills once he finds out that I drink one or two grande Americanos every day. I know! But please understand that’s it’s an addiction; an illness. Once during finals week I even ordered a quad shot iced latte right in front of my crush. That should’ve been my rock bottom. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. I just grabbed my coffee and ran, praying he’d have the decency to not tell his other guy friends about how much of a total freak I am.
I know that I’m supposed to just take the plunge and be brave and vulnerable enough to let someone love me with all my flaws. But I’m a work in progress, and I’d really like to feel like I was finding my way out this weird quirk of mine before I enter into a serious relationship. I’m just not there yet. I mean, I practically live at Starbucks. Sometimes I’ll go there to work on my laptop, regardless of whether or not I actually want coffee (their energy drinks are actually really good!). I’ve carried this shameful burden for so long, I just don’t even know how I’d even begin to let someone share it with me.
I still dream of that perfect fairytale ending—white picket fence, adoring husband, happy family. But I have this nagging worry that that kind of fantasy just isn’t in the cards for girls like me. And no, don’t offer me decaf. That’s just dumb!
I’ve been trying to learn to love myself despite this mortifying secret. But the journey to self-love is a long and winding road. And until I’m far enough along on it, I just can’t ask someone to be there with me and my dumb addiction.
