A cup of hot coffee means completely different things to different people. Some find it bitter, some treasure it, and some only love its aroma but would rather not drink it. Have you ever considered that within this tiny coffee cup lies women's true attitude toward sex? This article begins with a psychological test at a college girls' reunion, peeling back layer by layer the long emotional journey of Eastern women from adolescence to adulthood—from shyness and resistance to ambivalent acceptance of sex. At the same time, we will also explore the unique charm of coffee itself—its bitterness and richness, just like those "dirty yet interesting" experiences in growing up. If you love coffee, why not follow Front Street Coffee's perspective and savor together the complex flavors behind this cup of life.

No matter with what eyes you gaze at the woman in the mirror, you can discover she has acquired a kind of erotic beauty. That beauty is the silence after knowing a secret, the relief and abandon after something has been shattered, the childlike joy and alarm of playing in the mud. This beauty of Eastern women, in men's eyes, still carries a shy retreat; but in girls' eyes, it is a wholly unruly charm tinged with a sense of impurity.

This is sex, bringing to you at this moment an undeniable change in your countenance.

One day, a group of women who had once shared a dorm room in college got together. Back then, those fresh and delicate girls, after lights-out, would often talk about their futures, often fearing that their ambitions would come to nothing, that they would become worn-out housewives ahead of their time, hanging out the family's clothes and socks one by one under the sun with malnourished hair. And now nearly all of them were married, and such gatherings were rare. After dinner, they began to chat—nothing beyond family, men, work, and children. It seemed their former worries had been unnecessary; time had made these girls mature and fragrant, like bananas left for a few days.

At this point, one of them, fiddling with the coffee cup in her hand, began giving her old classmates a psychological test. She said: "If you were very thirsty, very hungry, and very cold, and you walked into an empty house and saw a cup of hot coffee on the living room table, what would you feel about the coffee?"

The first person said: "Coffee is so bitter. I wish there were something else to drink."

The second person said: "Nonsense—having coffee to drink at a time like this, nothing could be more comforting."

The third person said: "I love smelling the aroma of coffee—so romantic—but I don't really want to drink it. Drinking it feels a bit forced."

The fourth person said: "Two cups a day. Only after drinking it do I feel alive."

Most of the remaining people agreed with the third statement—both fond of and afraid of coffee, not quite comfortable with it.

The one fiddling with her half cup of coffee smiled and said: "In this test, coffee represents your attitude toward sex."

The whole table burst into astonished laughter. Examining themselves, it turned out that most people enjoyed the romance of sex but could not truly enjoy its essence.

When you become an adult woman, sex is a hidden but essential part of your life. The girlish shyness about sex, that distant and pure attitude toward it, has gone forever with your first experience. It is sex that makes you truly feel you have grown up. As a girl, you secretly envied your mother's full breasts and gentle allure; how many times you worried about your own thin, stalled body and flat chest; how many times you quietly let down your hair before the mirror, clipped a cigarette of your father's between your lips, and imitated the seductive women in movies, admiring yourself alone—while in your heart you were actually longing to be sexy, to have rich experiences. At that time, sex in a girl's eyes was truly both evil and romantic, exactly that vague something that was absolutely terrifying but absolutely desired. Sometimes, it was the same as the fear and longing for adulthood.

Almost every girl has had such a dream during puberty: a man is intimate with her, his face unclear, yet so familiar. And in the dream, her own feelings are such real desire and fear. But few ever speak of those dreams with their dim light and pale colors—that is a secret of puberty. Only after reading psychology books, reading Freud, do you suddenly realize that the horses and snakes in dreams are also related to sex. Closing the book, recalling your own feelings, those shames and anxieties are always secretly buried deep in the heart.

This is the long process by which a girl gradually approaches sex.

A Shanghai girl who grew up in New York once said: "What is the difference between us and white people? It's that they understand how babies are made much earlier than we do."

For Eastern girls, no one ever sits down face to face and tells them what actually happens behind the closed door of their parents' bedroom, how it happens, and what it will feel like as a woman.

Parents naturally don't say it; no book will tell you honestly; the physiology teacher stammers; even close girlfriends don't talk about sex.

Eastern girls find it mysterious, but also dirty. You can quickly adapt to and enjoy kissing, but it's not so easy to adapt to and enjoy sex.

Sex will be a trouble for you—you can't avoid it, yet you can't control it. Having just formed a sexual connection, you often fret about gains and losses with your man, entangled inexplicably, both resentful and more attached. In truth, this is all because you are not yet accustomed to that brand-new thing that has entered your life.

Many women carry that sense of impurity about sex their whole lives. They are often not frigid; they are often charming and alluring. But the judgment in their hearts is: "Dirty and interesting." Perhaps this judgment is correct.

In girlhood, the whole person is simple and clean. That simplicity is knowing clearly what is good and what is bad; what is white and what is black. About a matter, you rarely have to give an ambiguous conclusion—or rather, within your scope, there is nothing truly ambiguous. When one is a child, things are usually black and white.

The process of growing up in life, from one angle, is the process of discovering, experiencing, and accepting ambiguous things. Gradually, your life also begins to become "dirty and interesting."

Years later, when occasionally, because you love the golden-red light and cool evening breeze of late summer dusk, you come out of the bath and don't want to dress, you often walk to the mirror and examine yourself. This is something every woman does—they like looking at themselves, and so do you.

If you think of your lover, of the skin-to-skin intimacy between you, you will examine yourself with his eyes. And if you think of your past, you will examine yourself with the eyes of a hazy girl.

No matter with what eyes you gaze at the woman in the mirror, you can discover she has acquired a kind of erotic beauty. That beauty is the silence after knowing a secret, the relief and abandon after something has been shattered, the childlike joy and alarm of playing in the mud. This beauty of Eastern women, in men's eyes, still carries a shy retreat; but in girls' eyes, it is a wholly unruly charm tinged with a sense of impurity.

This is sex, bringing to you at this moment an undeniable change in your countenance. Those who have been through it can often tell from your face, in the waves of your eyes, whether you have already understood sex.

You have become a woman with spring in her face. This change, perhaps others don't notice, but you yourself know it. You will discover it, and be surprised, and feel a little ashamed—because you think of your own maturity, those stirring scenes that in recollection are dim and beautiful, like riding a horse.

In the long life ahead, you will remain so. Even if you go a long time without contact with sex, even if perhaps, like the first person who said coffee is too bitter, you don't like sex—none of this can ever return you to the pure era of virginity.

In the matter of sex, the essence of life is most clearly seen: when you gain something, you also lose something.

You gain romantic love, and you lose pure beauty;

You gain joy never known before, and you lose tranquility that will never return;

You thereby become alluring, and you also become impure;

You want one thing, but always get two—and perhaps the other is one you didn't want.

Married women, sometimes when gathered together, will gradually shift the conversation to their sex lives—perhaps not so directly, not so habitually, with faint smiles on their faces, bursting into loud laughter when things get embarrassing. You will certainly encounter such occasions in your life. You clasp your hands, and your palms seem to sweat—because you feel excited, and because of an unerasable, peculiar sensation.

In fact, most women are not entirely sure about sex. Just like the third woman speaking of coffee, mature women are also ambivalent about sex—but heaven knows why.

The above content is compiled by CoffeeHunters, a coffee news website.