Never trust anyone who doesn't drink coffee.

Hear now the playful yet piercing words of AJ Lee, the wrestler whose wit was as sharp as her skill: “Never trust anyone who doesn’t drink coffee.” Though spoken in jest, as if a light remark tossed to the winds of conversation, there lies within it a deeper thread of meaning. For the ancients often taught that in jest hides wisdom, and what seems a joke may be a mirror to the soul. So too with this saying—it speaks to culture, to fellowship, to the bonds formed in the simple ritual of shared cups and honest talk.

The meaning is not that the drink itself is holy, nor that abstainers are truly faithless. Rather, coffee is here a symbol, a sign of warmth, of openness, of fellowship. To refuse it is, in the mind of the speaker, to step aside from the communion of shared humanity. The one who drinks coffee is seen as approachable, awake to the world, willing to share in the humble rituals that bring people together. Thus, the one who avoids it is cast as suspect—not for their taste, but for their distance from the hearth of common life.

Consider, then, the origin of such a saying. AJ Lee, born into the rough-and-tumble world of professional wrestling, where trust is scarce and friendships tested, used humor as both shield and sword. In such a realm, small rituals—like the morning brew—become marks of kinship. To drink coffee was to be part of the brotherhood of early mornings, long travels, and weary bodies that needed strength. Those who shared the drink shared the burden. Those who did not stood apart. Thus, the saying became a shorthand, a playful proverb, for judging the trustworthiness of strangers.

History too shows us the power of coffee as a unifier. In the coffee houses of 17th-century Europe, thinkers, merchants, and revolutionaries gathered. Ideas that shook kingdoms were brewed beside steaming cups. Voltaire, it is said, drank dozens of cups each day, and his mind burned all the brighter for it. These houses became places of trust, where men and women could speak boldly, bound together by their common cup. To refuse the drink in such places was to refuse entry into the circle of exchange and friendship. Truly, then, coffee has long been more than drink—it has been fellowship itself.

And let us not forget the American Revolution, when colonists, spurning British tea, embraced coffee as a symbol of liberty. Taverns and coffee houses became the beating heart of resistance. Thus, to drink coffee was to declare loyalty not only to taste but to principle. Those who refused it might be eyed with suspicion, for what man of liberty would not join in the chosen brew of freedom? Here too, AJ Lee’s playful proverb finds ancient echoes: to drink coffee was to mark oneself as trustworthy, as one with the people.

The lesson, children of the future, is not that you must drink coffee to be righteous, but that shared rituals bind hearts together. Trust is built not in grand gestures alone but in the small, daily acts of fellowship—breaking bread, pouring drink, watching the sunrise together. To abstain from these common bonds, whether through pride or distance, is to walk apart from the people. The one who shares in the simple joys is often the one who can be trusted with greater things.

So what, then, should you do? Embrace the rituals that knit community together. Whether it be a cup of coffee, a shared meal, or a common greeting, do not despise the small things that weave trust among men. If you do not drink coffee, then offer tea, or water, or bread—but always share something. Build trust through fellowship, for hearts united in daily ritual will stand together in times of trial.

Thus remember AJ Lee’s jest not as a command, but as wisdom clothed in humor. To drink coffee is to enter the circle of humanity, to be part of the laughter and the labor of life. Trust grows not in isolation but in communion, and the humble cup is one of the oldest and truest symbols of that bond. So drink, share, and trust—for in such things is the strength of fellowship, and in fellowship, the strength of all.