Dear French Press:
I'm sorry I'm writing instead of speaking to you, but it's awkward when you live together. I've realized in the past two months, that I'm not ready for this type of relationship. I'm exhausted.
I see why our friends set us up, but you know how it goes. No one can else can tell us what we need in a relationship. And it's not this. I mean for ME -- I'm sure you're great...really.
I just want coffee, French Press. Simple, quick coffee. I'm accustomed to the coffee dripping while I sleep. For years, I'd wake, stumble to the kitchen and drink it immediately. Maybe I was spoiled. I mean, I like to think I carried my weight in that relationship. I attended to Mr. Coffee the night before, but I don't know. Anyway, this isn't about exes. Let's focus on us.
I'll admit that you're adorable. You sit on the counter. You're clear, shiny, and have interesting parts. But - and again this is JUST ME - you're kinda high-maintenance. These days when I wake, it's like I'm stumbling onto the set of a cooking show. I have to cook water before you even get involved. I'm heating it up in a sauce pan on the stove like I'm preparing to make a bisque or something, while the dog whines to go out. She seems more agitated lately too; i think she feels the tension.
Next, I have to make sure your parts aren't clogged up from yesterday. I guess Mr. Coffee got clogged (sorry to mention the ex again), but I never saw behind the scenes. With you though, it's ALL seeing. You just sit there and hold the coffee grounds while I cook water. Water shouldn't have to be cooked. When I say this, people say, "Oh, you just need an electric kettle too!" But, I suspect that buying another item will lead to a threesome where I work even harder while TWO others enjoy themselves.
Once the water is hot, I give it to you, stir the coffee and set a timer. It's still dark outside, by the way, and I've done a lot at this point. I've had zero caffeine, but I must take the dog out.
I come back inside, and if I'm lucky, the timer has run out. I finally press your press thing, your ONLY contribution (to be fair, it's all your name promises), and finally, FINALLY I have coffee. But Frenchy, I'll be honest, your coffee is pretty muddy. And what's all that shit in the bottom? For the first week of our relationship, I accidentally swallowed all that sludge in the bottom of my cup. I'm on alert now, but if I zone out for even a moment, my last sip of coffee is chewing.
I heard I'm supposed to use coarsely-ground coffee. We both know that means I have to go buy a bean grinder, OR go have my coffee ground in the store or coffee shop. Then I'd be like a chef with field trips.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm making this about you, and that's not fair. You're lovely and charming. I see why my friends thought we might match. Maybe in a different phase of my life, you know, like when I don't actually need coffee, but need a hobby. But right now, I'm busy. I don't need "magic" at 5am; just a drug.
Godspeed,
Pam