Goodbye Coffee Goodbye…

“Goodbye my lovely friend
I loved you from the start
I knew that it would end
But didn’t have the heart
To see us part…”

(Joe Dolan)


Dearest Coffee,

It is with a heavy heart that I have closed the door on our long-term and entirely addictive relationship. Even though I can now accept that it was a toxic coupling which was physically damaging for me, it doesn’t mean I don’t still crave some contact with you. It doesn’t even mean I have stopped loving you.

To be honest I still pine for your intoxicating aroma first thing in the morning. I long to feel your comforting warmth as I entwine my fingers around my favourite mug, instantly feeling loved. I crave seeing you in the distance, calling to me, telling me you can make even the roughest day (and the most draining humans) infinitely more tolerable. I yearn to hear those perfect beans being ground at the weekend, when instant powder is replaced with a slower brew, and the caffeine experience elevates to another level entirely. But most of all I hunger for the taste of you – strong, bitter, earthy and delicious. My beloved coffee, what was I thinking? How could I possibly let you go?


We have cohabited ever since I was a young teenager, when I turned away from hot chocolate and cold milk, without as much as a backward glance. Powder cappuccino which never, ever lost all the lumps characterised our early relationship, but we then grew up together, changing and evolving but never uttering the word “goodbye”. You have been by my side for every major milestone in my life and you have travelled the world with me. Over the years things changed between us. They got less milky as lattes gave way to Americanos. They also got less sugary as we grew ever closer and needed nothing artificial to sweeten the experience. In recent years all I needed was you and me (and possibly an odd dash of almond milk).

But you see, if I am honest, you had started to dominate me – we weren’t equals anymore – you were controlling me. I needed more and more of you and I started to exclude all other warm beverages – even ones that were better for me. My day was centered around you and my desire for you. And so it was time to take my life back.

And I did. 15 days 7 hours and 33 minutes ago I told you it was over, that I needed space to clear my head, that I needed time away from you. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do and it made me feel like I was dying (or at least having a brain hemorrhage or a stroke).


But I don’t regret it. Lemon and Ginger Tea may not be the perfect replacement but it is far less domineering, stepping easily aside for the peppermint flavour after dinner and the pre-bed chamomile. You never did that. You never allowed me to let others in. It is not right to control people that way coffee, surely you can see that now.

I know you want to be friends. An occasional hook-up at the weekend, a sneaky cheeky espresso after a big meal. But I really don’t think we can. The headaches and pain you caused me may eventually be forgotten, but there will always be the trust issue. And to be honest, while I remain even a little in love with you, a casual relationship is simply too hard. If I let you get close again, my resolve may falter and I don’t think I can go thorough another break-up like this. So for us, from here on, a weekly decaf is as far as it can ever go. And I know mentioning decaf is a final arrow though your heart. I never thought I would utter that word to you and I am not trying to hurt you….. but sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s not coffee. I admit it will never make my heart flutter like you, but it looks and tastes like you without the choking addiction. Soz!!!

So even though my heart aches for you every minute of everyday, this is my fond farewell. I will miss you forever coffee, have a good life. Goodbye, xx


  1. Fancy says:

    Is it really all over?? A few final farewell flings perhaps!!

    1. Dara says:

      Still going strong with the decaf xxx

Leave a Reply to Dara Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published.