You Were My Cup Of Tea Then But I Drink Champagne Now

I think it’s fair to say our interest in people changes as sporadically as our food preferences. One day, we’re into sleeves and cantaloupe; the next day, it’s man buns and strawberries.

We look back on our past loves the same way we do Birkenstock clogs and crop tops: What the hell was I thinking?

The answer lies in the past, and there’s no point going back there; all you’ll find is too much time and money spent on bad taste and worse company.

What we should take from it, however, is we change, people change and our taste most definitely changes.

Unlike friends (who can also change), romance doesn’t have a long shelf life. People aren’t classic; they're fads, trends and one-season hits.

We’re lured and tempted, the same way we were by those long, flowing, sheer maxi skirts of 2013.

While you may not have been the one to end the superficial romance -- you may not have even been upset about it at the time -- you most certainly aren’t lamenting over it now.

If those maxi dresses came back in style today, you wouldn’t look twice. You’d probably laugh at the stupid girls buying them.

So, when your old loves do come out of the woodwork, or you think of the one guy who broke your heart, don't cringe.

It burns because you can’t believe you were ever with them; can't believe you ever gave them the satisfaction of your love.

It hurts most because you know they think you still give a damn, or you still yearn for them and pine for them.

You just wish so badly to tell them you don’t drink f*cking tea anymore...

You were the "Whole Nine Yards," but now I’m over Bruce Willis.

Like any good movie, it got old. You can only watch something so many times before you start to crave a new film, maybe even a new genre.

Hell, maybe Bruce Willis stopped doing it for you when you finally saw Al Pacino in “The Godfather.”

It doesn’t mean you can talk sh*t on “Die Hard,” however. One is an cinematic achievement and the other is just, well, “Die Hard.”

You were my processed meat, but now I’m into grass-fed.

I'm not bougie now; I’m just well-fed. It’s not that I don’t like the taste of McDonald's. It’s just, now I know better.

We all love the taste of processed meat and stale fries, but there's a limit to how much we can take.

After a while, you begin to crave sustenance and quality. Those small differences you didn’t care about as a kid, like ability to commit and cleanliness, become huge turnoffs and all the more noticeable.

The quality of the meal takes precedence over the cheap tricks of hard buns and a good shake.

You were my light, but now it’s burned out.

You were essential until you weren’t -- until you had to be replaced. Relationships, like batteries and light bulbs, aren’t supposed to run forever. They burn out. Things die and you either throw them away, or you look for a good replacement.

Life isn’t forever, and neither are our feelings.

You were the best thing since sliced bread, but now I’m into pitas.

The first of anything is always good, but it doesn’t mean I want it again. Just because we’ve graduated beyond geometry doesn’t mean we don’t respect René Descartes.

We’re smarter because of what we learned from him… even if we couldn’t look at his “formula” for a few months. His lessons were the building blocks of where are now.

Those bad relationships, horrible breakups and cringeworthy mistakes are just pivotal moments on the road to the person you’re destined to become and the people you’re fated to meet.

You were the flavor of the week, but now I'm thinking…

My favorite flavor used to be a sorbet… and back then, we'd try anything. We had no preference because we had no understanding of ourselves.

Our taste in men and women changed as rapidly as the evolving Baskin-Robbins flavors.

It takes a long time to find out which ice cream flavor defines you, the one you'll go back to time and time again. Your youth is for trying all those flavors, maybe double-dipping or binging on “birthday cake” until you throw up and can’t look at it ever again.