I don’t drink coffee, because it tastes of ass, but about once a week I will go to the local gas station and pick up a coffee-based liquid substance. The one you see here is about sixty percent their English Toffee latte and forty percent their French Vanilla latte, combined in a single cup. It comes out of a vending machine rather than made by a tattooed disaffected barista/o, and it tastes absolutely nothing like coffee — it tastes, in point of fact, like a liquid Heath bar, which is why I drink it. This is why I have no problem saying that I don’t drink coffee: This isn’t coffee, although some aspect of coffee may lurk within, utterly drowned out by the toffee and vanilla and sugar experience.
The fact that I enjoy my gas station vending machine coffee-related liquid candy experience more than I enjoy a genuinely excellently handcrafted coffee beverage that actually tastes of coffee will no doubt shock and horrify coffee purists and enthusiasts, but I am all right with that. I celebrate their coffee snobbery, I’m just glad I don’t have it. My total coffee-related expenditures come to $1.19 once a week versus three times that on a daily basis, and I think that’s about right.
Anyway, it’s fine to judge me on this. I don’t mind. I delight in it, in fact.