8 Ways We Love Someone, And Their Corresponding Beverages

1. There’s a love like wine.

Healthy in small doses, a love like wine seeps in slowly, flushing the cool of our cheeks and easing the stress of another work day. It’s not falling, but collapsing in love — unsustainable in its warmth and richness, offering up too much of a good thing. We don’t seem to mind, though, taking comfort in the knowledge that it’ll always be there, whether or not we choose to embrace it.

2. There’s a love like coffee.

A love like coffee is longterm, but dependable. It’s the kind of love which forces us to burn the candle at both ends, passionate and productive in its codependency. It’s the way their touch commands the dip of our lower back to tingle, the way their voice awakes life from even the deepest slumber. It’s the way we’re always racing against the clock or traffic, just to salvage a single moment of exhaustion by their side.

3. There’s a love like tequila.

A love like tequila arrives in the drunken grip of infatuation. It’s our knowing that regret lies just around the bend, but our proceeding regardless. It’s romantic escapism at its finest, gorgeously deluded in its immediate optimism, yet equally brutal in its resulting pain.

4. There’s a love like scotch.

A love like scotch is self-inflicted. It’s the way we occasionally surrender to past experiences of heartache, the way our misery so surely loves company. It’s connecting with somebody new over something old, finding beauty in amongst the windswept ashes of our past. Though welcome in the shadow of night, a love like scotch rarely lasts to see the light of morning.

5. There’s a love like champagne.

A love like champagne most commonly falls on celebratory occasion. It’s the way life can be so occasionally brilliant, and it’s our desperate need to share that brilliance with another person. It’s riding the tallest, greatest wave — but dismounting before it crashes to shore. It’s surrendering to the notes of a song you haven’t heard, laughing at a joke you didn’t quite hear. It’s detachment through connection.

6. There’s a love like soda.


Cheap and easily accessible, a love like soda makes its way into our daily routine and tries to stay there. It’s addictive in its energy, assuring in its predictability. I suppose the problem lies in its inability to nourish us — our mind, heart, body or soul. It’s sweet, but shallow. It gives us just enough affection to forget all that we’re truly missing, gradually eroding our sense of self.

7. There’s a love like chamomile.

A love like chamomile is a love that sticks around for a while. It’s understated in its comfort, always showing love in place of telling it. It’s the kind of love that we depend on regularly, even if we don’t reciprocate the same time or feeling. It’s companionship without the commitment; partnership without the passion.

8. There’s a love like water.


A love like water is the kind we already harbor, but rarely acknowledge. It bubbles away within us, settling in different nooks and crannies as we move cautiously along our given paths. It doesn’t discriminate, as it’s a vital component to our genetic make-up: we love as surely as we breathe, and we breathe as surely as we live. We don’t drink from it as often as we should, however, due to its absence of color or taste.

I suppose we become distracted by all the options — artificial sweeteners, colors and packaging — forever parched, forever seeking out the next dose of satisfaction.