I don't like my men like I like my coffee.

A month ago, whilst on the sandy beaches of Adelaide, someone asked me if I had a boyfriend. I replied ‘No, I don’t’. They replied “Oh. You seem like the type of girl who would have a boyfriend”.

Now, any sentence with ‘You seem like the type of girl...’ immediately makes my fangs appear. I had no idea what this meant. Was this a compliment? Was this an offense? Was this like that time when someone said to me at a party “I love the way you disguise your beauty” and I had to explain that this wasn’t a compliment. This was in fact the compliment equivalent of saying to someone “I love your haircut, it really brings out your head” or “Oh wow! You look so much thinner since your mum died!”. It’s a negg.

So, re boyfriend. I was for a second, mildly confused. Do I look like ‘the type of girl’ that has heaps of admirers to the point I’ve just had to GRAB ONE for my own safety, or do I look like ‘the type of girl’, like Anastasia Steele circa 50 Shades of Shit, who literally cannot stand on their own two feet without the testosterone presence of another person to lean on? God kill me if that is the case.

This then got me thinking, about my dream man if I had one. I have three crushes: The Goblin King from the Labyrinth (*cough* Bowie in leggings *cough*) Justin Timberlake and Marc Bolan from T-Rex. One is fictional, one of them likes cargo shorts and the other is dead. So there is little chance of a future love there.

But then, I looked down at my beverage in my hand. Coffee. Tall, grande, filtered, strong.

“If only coffee was a man.”

I love coffee. It’s one of my favourite things next to codeine and drinking proseco on a train*.

And you hear it all the time:

“I like my men like I like my coffee. Black, strong, hot”

“I like my men like I like my coffee. Able to keep me up for hours”

“I like my men like I like my coffee. As far away from my vagina as possible”

etc etc.

It’s a positive idea. But then, imagine for a second, coffee WAS a man.

Imagine, he turned up at your door:

“Hey sugar... you seem a little tired... want me to perk-u-late you up?”