Drinking Coffee Elsewhere

Coffee and I broke up back in January. I was sick of the way he treated me, and I knew we'd never work it out. I felt stronger and better without him.

Spring rolled around and so did the desire for Coffee, chilling with his good friend Ice. We started talking again, getting together on the sly. I missed him, but I didn't want to fall into his trap. Our breakup and reunion went on and on. We'd spend a week apart and then I'd smell him in a bookstore and go running back.

I convinced myself it wasn't him who kicked me around, it was that guy he was always with, Dairy. When I met his new friend Soy Milk, I thought he'd changed. Our relationship was on my terms for once--that pull he had was gone. We'd see each other a few times a week, usually only in the afternoons, and I felt free.

Then I got to Chennai, where coffee is sweet and milky and nearly perfect (ah, you were thinking this was a tea town, but you're wrong! North India is known for the tea) and the only consolation is that it's served in teeny tiny cups. Which makes me feel better about drinking four or so every day.

Since I'm already going to hell in a handbasket, I've been drinking 7-UP to settle my stomach, which is another relationship I don't need since Soda and I parted ways back around the time Coffee and I originally broke up. And I often skip lunch, which means it's okay that I replace those nutrients with ones from Cadbury bars. Did I mention that my pale freckled face has been facing the sun sans SPF most days?

I know deep down that none of these transgressions have me headed to Promises straight from Chennai, but why is it so hard to be balanced? If my practice is regular and strong, I'm eating crap. If I'm eating well, I'm severely depressed. A few years back, smoking, drinking and doing more than my fair share of other not-so-healthy activities, I was in great shape, practicing yoga consistently and walking back and forth to work, rain or shine.

So if anyone wants to send me a case of American Spirits, please do so care of the Hotel President. I probably would've started smoking again but I never see anything besides Marlboro Reds here.