Reena Gilborn watches you order coffee and she’s got you pegged – all the way through to your relationships or the ones you wish you had.

Let’s get something straight: I’m not psychic. I can’t read your mind. But I can read your coffee order, and honey, it’s telling me everything.

For seven years, I’ve been watching you all from behind my laptop screen, nestled in the corner table of your favourite café. When you order that oat milk cortado or insist on single-origin pour-over while your date checks their phone, I’m taking notes. Not because I’m creepy (okay, maybe a little), but because I’ve discovered something most relationship therapists have missed: coffee preferences are the most honest dating profile you’ll ever write.Starting next week, I’ll be your guide to the secret language of coffee and desire in my new column for Bean Indigo, Coffee Confidential. Consider it your field manual to the wild terrain where caffeine and connection intersect.

You think it’s just coffee? It’s never just coffee.

The woman who orders her cappuccino “extra dry” isn’t just particular about milk foam—she’s telling you she maintains strict boundaries and expects you to respect them. The man who drinks cold brew year-round, even in Edmonton’s minus-thirty winters? He’s signalling emotional unavailability disguised as resilience. That couple sharing a Chemex? They’re either in their honeymoon phase or desperately trying to resuscitate a dying relationship through shared rituals.

I know because I’ve been all of these people.

My research isn’t conducted from some sterile academic distance. I’ve had first dates, breakups, and undefined situationships across four continents, all with a coffee cup between my hands. I’ve been the espresso-shooting adrenaline junkie who can’t commit. I’ve been the latte lover seeking comfort over excitement. I’ve been the black coffee purist who thinks emotional dependency is for the weak.

Each persona taught me something about what we reveal in our rituals.

When I was living in Melbourne (flat white, one sugar), I dated a barista who could predict with 90% accuracy which couples would break up based solely on their evolving coffee orders. I learned a lot from him. “Watch what happens when someone switches from sharing a french press to ordering individual drinks,” he told me. Three weeks later, I made that exact switch with my partner of eight months. We were done within days.

Later, in Istanbul (Turkish coffee, medium sweet), I learned that people who can handle the bitter finish of traditional preparation tend to stay calmer during relationship turbulence. In Vienna (melange with whipped cream), I discovered that public displays of indulgence correlate with private expressions of vulnerability.

Looking for a great Turkish coffee process?
Check out Roastavore’s How to Make the Perfect Turkish Coffee. He knows of what he speaks!

But it was in the independent cafés of Edmonton where my research crystallized into a coherent theory. Covid gave us all some valuable navel gazing time and I came out of the gate with a head full. Something about our brutal winters makes coffee shops into confessionals. In the steam rising from ceramic mugs, I’ve witnessed first Tinder meetings transform into love affairs, marriages dissolve over incorrectly remembered orders, and workplace hierarchies flatten through the democratic ritual of the afternoon caffeine run.

Here’s what I promise you in Coffee Confidential:

I won’t pretend to be objective. My observations come with the specific bias of someone who believes human connection is our most essential nutrient, second only to coffee itself.

I won’t name names or places specific enough for you to identify the subjects. But if you recognize yourself in these stories, perhaps that’s something worth examining over your next cup.

I won’t judge your preferences. Whether you’re a frappuccino fanatic or an espresso elitist, your choice is valid—and validly revealing.

What I will do is help you decode the silent signals passing between people across café tables everywhere. I’ll translate the language of steamed milk and extraction methods into insights about attachment styles, commitment patterns, and erotic imagination.

Consider me your coffee shop Cupid, armed with a notebook instead of arrows.

My first full Coffee Confidential post drops next week: “The Pour-Over and The Cold Brew: A Coffee Shop Meet Cute.” It features a real-life coffee shop encounter I witnessed last month that perfectly demonstrates how opposing brewing philosophies can create either perfect balance or absolute disaster in romance.

Until then, pay attention to what’s in your cup. It’s trying to tell you something about what’s in your heart.

Just don’t change your order because of me. The performance is always less revealing than the unconscious choice.

See you next week in Coffee Confidential, coffee lovers. And remember—I’m watching you. But only because you’re fascinating.

Comments welcome below. Cream, sugar, and brutal honesty served on the side.