Dear Starbucks... It's Not Me, It's You

I don’t think this will come as a shock. We both know it’s been heading in this direction for some time. I know that I share some responsibility for where we are today, but ultimately, the breaking point—the catalyst for the end of our relationship—was of your own making.

I think it’s important to recount the road that brought us together in the first place.

You always remember your first. I met mine at a wonderful little joint straight out of a CW coming-of-age drama, The Moon Flight Coffee House. It was a charming local place, a converted bank with its offices turned into different themed rooms filled with comfy couches, coffee tables, and an owner who had no problem letting teens congregate there whether they all bought something or not. There were poetry readings and the occasional live musical performances from my teenage compatriots. It was the perfect place to grow up and stay out of trouble.

It was there that I had my first experience with coffee. I remember looking at the chalkboard menu, full of words I had heard in movies and on TV shows, spoken with an air of pretension—usually the favored drinks of snobs and yuppy antagonists who would play foil to the more working-class heroes who rolled their eyes at any caffeinated beverage whose ordering required more descriptors than “black.”

And she was so sweet. With hints of chocolate and coconut, she was all the warmth and joy of hot chocolate, with the sophistication that comes with combining espresso with steamed milk. I knew it was something special.

Like all high school relationships, it wasn’t built to last. In fact, it was the first time that you became a part of my life, although indirectly. You opened a location across the street from my beloved Moon Flight, and by the time I graduated, Moon Flight was gone. While not entirely your fault, I did blame you for her fate. To the point that, in a fit of teenage rebellion, my friends and I may have engaged in some non-destructive but definitely unsavory behavior toward the site of your future building. Though we had never really met, I swore we never would.

I played the field with coffee and other coffee-adjacent beverages for the next few years, and I learned a lot about myself and the way the world works. I remember one particular lesson about the dangers of overconsumption that was taught to me by the lovely but simple fare at Pittsburgh favorite, Eat’n’Park. Too young to frequent a bar, but old enough to no longer be burdened by an 11:00 curfew, my friends and I spent hours conversing while drinking cup after cup, sweetened with 2 creamers and 4 sugars per cup. Over the course of three hours, I had consumed 8 cups. It was that night I experienced the joy of what it feels like to be both wired and puking at the same time.

It wasn’t until college that you and I really started to develop a relationship. I had been going steady with a styrofoam cup full of machine-dispensed “coffee” from the local 7/11. It wasn’t great, but it had all the sweetness of my first relationship but came with an accessibility my financially strapped situation could allow.

Then we were introduced. It started innocently enough, meeting some friends after class within your welcoming walls. A vanilla latte with extra vanilla became a regular “treat” when I could afford it or found myself on a first date.

I wasn’t fully committed to you yet. For the next few years, we’d see each other on and off. While TV and the internet would have you believe that you were everywhere I wanted to be, your presence in my life was not necessarily convenient. Our relationship wasn’t necessarily over, but I’d been seeing Dunkin' Donuts pretty regularly. She was convenient and dependable, offering the same consistency and routine that I needed in my life, if not necessarily providing the same frills, ambiance, and status that you conveyed.

It didn’t mean that we weren’t getting together regularly. I’d see you on the holidays. Getting together for a Pumpkin Spice Latte in the fall or a Gingerbread Latte as Christmas approached always helped me to get into the spirit of whatever season.

We started to see each other more and more over the years. Your consistent presence in my life offered a sense of routine and stability that I came to appreciate, especially as my job kept me on the road and away from home for extended periods of time. It didn’t help that my per diem financed most of our escapades. Maybe it’s why I didn’t realize how deep our relationship was getting and how destructive it might eventually become.

It wasn’t until the pandemic that our relationship reached its deepest point. Trying to be a good citizen and embracing the quarantine, you were a beacon in the darkness of those times. Coming to visit you was more than just escapism from the boredom of isolation for both me and my children; it was a welcome comfort as my career crumbled and my sanity teetered.

Yet, as my subsequent jobs forced me to take pay cuts, it was becoming clear that our relationship was likely on the rocks. Forces were trying to keep us apart. My doctor, my wife, my blood glucose levels, my wallet—they all wanted us to be apart. For a while, I resisted. You were such a part of my everyday life that I just didn’t think I could give you up.

But recent circumstances necessitated that our relationship change, namely my A1C. Yet we found a way to adapt. Sure, I wasn’t going to see you every day, and I had to find a lower-calorie alternative, but things seemed to be okay.

But that all came to a head today. Looking for an afternoon treat, I stopped by for a visit. I ordered the smallest drink on the menu, not wanting to overindulge.

“That will be $6.52.”

My heart was broken. I paid for my drink, but I knew that our relationship, despite how long we had been together, was over.

It was then that I realized truly how much you had been taking advantage of me. I realized in that moment how abusive our relationship had been. You had been pushing the bounds of financial abuse little by little to the point that you had stopped trying to hide it. I had been looking away for years, ignoring your mistreatment of your staff, your negative impact on small businesses, and your constant price gouging—all in the name of our comfortable relationship.

I am here to tell you that I just can’t do it anymore.

I’ve found someone new in my life. Someone who doesn’t ask so much of me. Sure, she requires that I put a little more effort into our relationship, but she gives me everything I need without abusing our relationship. Her name is Kirkland Cold Brew. We’ve been seeing each other for more than six months now, and I guess you could say it’s getting pretty serious.

Will I miss you? Of course. I’m sure when we cross paths, I’ll glance at you longingly and wonder where we would be if we had managed to stay together. Will I occasionally open your Instagram around the holidays and pine for you? Hell, I’m sure I’ll even come crawling back for the sad occasional hookup.

But things will never be the same.

And while you'll make excuses, in reality, you only have yourself to blame.