The Marital Coffee War
May 13, 2026
“Coffee, Brown”
Our morning habits,
For Each of us,
A pot brews
Poured over,
Estranged
~a contribution by Andy, in the comments section
In his New York Times column, Judge John Hodgman fielded an intensely controversial question a few weeks ago, and 587 comments (at last count) poured forth, scorching the internet.
The question came from Alli: “I make a morning pour-over coffee for myself while my husband, Keegan, uses the bathroom. He’s upset that I never make him one, but he’s usually in there for an hour. He wants coffee when he gets out, even if it’s cold. Please order Keegan to make a pre-bathroom coffee for both of us for one week and then stop bothering me about it.”
Hodgman set up a quiz for his readers, offering three possible replies. But they already had their own ideas. I braced myself: the down side of women’s rights has been the sense that even small everyday kindnesses are exploitation. I have had friends snap, “Can’t he do that much himself?” when I happened to refer, without complaint, to some chore I have taken on because my husband now has a chronic illness. We are all militant for one another, in well-intended solidarity. But the outrage has been building up for so long that it spills over regardless of context.
Sure enough, when one woman wrote in that she makes her husband’s coffee just as he likes it, because “it’s a little way that I show I care,” another replied, “Let me guess: and your partner’s way of showing that he cares involves a task that he has to do once a month at best while yours involves daily labor. Not surprising as women are put on this earth to labor for and serve men.”
“Why should the earlier riser be punished and have to make coffee for both?” wrote Brooklyn. “Instead of hiding in the bathroom for an hour, her husband could start the coffee first.” Kate was outraged too: “So he hogs the bathroom for an hour, then wants her to make him coffee?”
But there were other responses, too—and as I scrolled, I saw a composite portrait of marriage. Why it is endangered, what makes it work, how it has gone wrong, why we desperately need more common sense and kindness. Practical advice overflowed, along with tender sharings. I still have not gotten over the man who wrote, “My late spouse was a tea drinker. I made her tea and would love to do so again.”
Another man wrote, “I don’t even drink coffee but I made coffee for my wife every day and very much enjoy doing so.” Quite a few men made the coffee, in fact, and many brought it to their wives in bed. That left Nancy in Michigan rolling her eyes: “You devoted couples serving each other coffee in bed strain my credulity.” For me, it was the wife who always drew a heart in the foam. Still, there was more ease and practical affection than I expected. “Whoever is up makes the coffee,” wrote Toni in La Mesa. “I still work, husband is retired. When I need a pick-me-up, he appears in my office with that elixir of life and I absolutely relish him for that. Neither of us cares who makes it. It’s a small way of showing our love, and that’s enough.”
With the couples clearly happy in their marriage, what came through was not just tenderness but trust. Vince in Frisco wrote, “I make a pot of drip coffee for my wife and myself every morning and have done so for over 20 years. I make it every morning because I am always awake before her. If she were awake before me, I know she would do the same. Marriage doesn’t need to be so transactional. Jeez!”
Periodically, someone remarked that we are all so sick of politics and bad news that it is a delight to focus down on the quotidian. But I think most of us figured this was about more than coffee.
“Imagine your favorite person on earth is asking for a cup of coffee,” wrote Ece, “and instead of making them one, you write to NYT to complain.” Kim in Mississippi was also exasperated: “Oh, for crying out loud, get yourself a Keurig, brew a pot, get what you want and save the rest (hot or not) for your bathroom-loving spouse. Y’all really are scrambling for something to argue about here.” Hugo, in Finland, was blunt: “if you cant/wont make coffee for your partner/spouse perhaps you shouldnt be together.”
I was not the only one, it seemed, who was tired of measuring and legislating thoughtfulness. Dryly, from DC: “Have you all considered a coffee pot?” Others suggested a coffee Thermos. Several reminded Alli that there are larger pour-over pots or sets of two, so she could make an extra cup in a matter of seconds. One writer pointed out that Keegan clearly does not care about coffee, so get him generic preground coffee and a coffeemaker with a timer. Another recast the issue as “respect for a hobby”: clearly Alie cared far more about the quality of her coffee than Keegan did, and he was “treating her high-effort pour-over as interchangeable with a cold cup that’s been sitting an hour…. He’s asking her to undermine something she cares about.”
None of us had enough information—was there a history of unreasonable expectations? Did Keegan offer small, sweet courtesies, too? But people plunged in anyway, ready to do therapy. One writer sensed “a clear cry for help” that the coffee-obsessed were missing. The bathroom time could be “a medical issue? Apricots?” and “being predisposed to paint one’s partner in a degrading way is also pretty nasty. Time to visit a counselor with a coffee bar and restroom.” Someone else asked if there was perhaps a difference in time management: “His approach to the morning is loosey goosey—hers is more structured. Perhaps she’s tired of accommodating his unpredictable timing, bathroom or otherwise.”
Between speculations, readers addressed coffee technique and bathroom length-of-stay. Panchito in Texas suspected “a collision of narcissisms.” There were accusations of coffee snobbery and meticulous descriptions of water temperature and grams and digital scales that proved the former. There were bemusements (“What on earth is pour over coffee?”) and scoldings about the K-cups one post suggested being bad for the environment. (The writer used a reusable stainless steel one, so there). As for the loo hour, “What’s he doing, reading Dostoyevsky or something? That’s not healthy.” But a woman confided that her husband of thirty-three years “takes a loooong time to poop.” She asked about it, she said. “I wanted details.” Turned out, “it’s just how his body works. And others of us are 4 minute poopers. We’re just different humans, people.”
We digest differently, we live differently, we love differently. In the end, no stranger can tell you when you are being taken advantage of or asking too much, because every relationship is different. Marriage is Marxist: each gives according to their ability. You know when the balance is off; both parties sense it, although the one reaping the greatest benefit might ignore that pesky truth. But each of us has quirky little needs, demands, and expectations, and each of us has the capacity to sacrifice and be magnanimous. Forget the coffee for a second, if you can. Problems come when poweris not shared, and when love is not sufficient.
Hodgman’s ruling? “Pour-over coffee is wrong — or, at least, single-serving pour-over is. No matter how delicious, it’s antisocial and tedious, especially when offering someone a cup of coffee is one of the oldest (and easiest) rituals of affection. So long as you share the same coffee preference, and so long as Keegan is matching you pot for (bigger) pot, you should take turns brewing for each other.”
After reading the comments, the judge added, “Keegan does need to make you both coffee for a week (or month!) to bring things into balance. Thereafter, get a bigger Chemex, and take turns taking care of each other.”
And so ends the tempest in a coffee mug, becalmed. Those 587 comments mixed bitterness and sweetness, but beneath the froth hid a real issue: how to navigate fairness without tit-for-tat adjudications stripped of the love that is, by definition, patient and kind.
I already suspect these two will be incapable of taking turns.
