As sweet as coffee

Coffee. Even the name of it makes my taste buds quiver with trepidation, but funnily enough I had never even tired it.
I had come close once or twice, but then decided it was just a waste of time when I could be enjoying a nice, hot cup of tea, which I knew I would enjoy every last drop of.
But then, one day I finally made the decision to drink a mug of coffee. At least then I could say I didn’t like it after I had proved it to myself.
I stood in the kitchen, waiting patiently for the plastic kettle to boil the water, my typical tea mug at the ready and a teaspoon as my weapon of choice.
Click. The water was at a hundred degrees.
Making coffee is a lot like making tea, with the exception of the coffee beans in place of the tea bag. I sank the teaspoon deep into the coffee beans.
“How many spoons of it should I use?” I asked her
“One and a little bit” she replied
I did as instructed, one. Then the little bit. The dark beans stained the milk, permanently ruining its purity. The hot water washed away the sin.
I was once taught the secret of all good coffee – to stir a lot. I stirred anti-clockwise for a whole minute, the creeping stench of it infiltrating my nostrils and making me pull a strange face somewhere between disgust and illness. I removed the spoon, tapped it against the edge several times and set it aside.
Several light bubbles swirled systematically on the surface of the dark, foul smelling liquid, the Frankenstein of the beverage world.
I raised the rim to my lower lip, and put on a brave face. I had used plenty of milk so it wasn’t too hot, but I still blew on it anyway, delaying it any way I could.
A small amount slipped into my tightly pursed lips. My expression didn’t change as I lowered the mug back to the kitchen surface. And spat it all out
It was disgusting. It actually tasted like I had filled a used ashtray with hot water and then tasted it. Horrible!
I took to arms with the spoon and reached for the sugar, I didn’t even have sugar in my tea, but this was calling for drastic measures!
After one teaspoon of sugar, ineffective. It still tasted like crap
“I’m going to need a lot more before that tastes good”
Two more spoons of sugar, still, completely worthless against the crude taste of coffee.
Another two, we are now totalling at five, boys and girls. The taste was a little better, but still made me want to empty my stomach through my mouth.
On seven spoons of sugar, I had a revelation. “I don’t like coffee” I wasn’t making it taste better; I was covering the taste up completely.
At nine sugars, the coffee became less of a liquid and more of a vile sludge, I could still taste the ashtray sensation and I had reached the limit in which sugar would dissolve. It was over.
I scraped the muck out into the sink, watching it wash away clockwise into the drain. Unnatural.
Flicking the switch to the kettle one more time I put in some milk and pushed the sugar aside. “I’ll stick with tea, thanks”