Psychopaths Prefer to Drink Black Coffee

What does your morning cup say about you? For some, coffee is just caffeine fuel to jolt the brain awake. For others, it’s a ritual as sacred as prayer, measured in carefully timed sips and perfected brewing methods. But a few years ago, headlines suggested that your choice of coffee specifically whether you drink it black might reveal something far more unsettling: a link to psychopathy.

The idea was irresistible. After all, black coffee is bold, uncompromising, even a little harsh qualities that seem to mirror the stereotype of a “dark” personality. Combine that with society’s fascination for quick personality tests and viral psychology tidbits, and suddenly cafés became suspect. Was the person sipping a straight espresso across the table just a strong-willed minimalist, or hiding a more sinister streak?

The truth, as it often does, lies somewhere in between. The science behind these claims is more nuanced and far less sensational than the headlines suggest. To understand why black coffee became associated with psychopathy, we need to look not just at one study in Austria, but at the psychology of taste itself, the media’s appetite for click-worthy stories, and our very human desire to find meaning in the smallest habits.

The Study That Started It All

The spark behind the black coffee–psychopathy connection came from a study conducted in 2015 by psychologists Christina Sagioglou and Tobias Greitemeyer at the University of Innsbruck in Austria. Curious about the psychology of taste, the researchers recruited nearly 1,000 adults through Amazon’s Mechanical Turk platform and asked them to rate their enjoyment of foods across the four basic flavors: sweet, salty, sour, and bitter. The “bitter” category included items such as black coffee, tonic water, radishes, and dark chocolate.

Once participants completed the taste ratings, they were asked to take four personality assessments. These weren’t casual quizzes but detailed measures designed to evaluate traits often grouped under the so-called “Dark Triad”: narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy, as well as related tendencies like aggression and everyday sadism. The goal was to see whether there was any consistent overlap between people’s palates and their personalities.

The results revealed a modest but striking pattern: those who expressed stronger preferences for bitter foods tended to score higher on malevolent traits, particularly psychopathy and everyday sadism. In other words, people who said they enjoyed the sharp bite of bitterness seemed more likely to also report traits linked with coldness, manipulativeness, or cruelty. The finding was significant enough to be published in the journal Appetite and was later reinforced by a follow-up study showing similar correlations.

But even within the research, the authors were careful about their conclusions. They emphasized that the association was a correlation, not proof that bitterness causes darker personality traits or that black coffee drinkers should be viewed with suspicion. In fact, the study never directly asked participants whether they drank their coffee black. Coffee was just one of many items classified as bitter.

The Media Spin: From Nuance to Clickbait

When the Innsbruck study made its way beyond academic journals, it didn’t take long for the headlines to strip away its caveats. “Black Coffee Drinkers Are Psychopaths” proclaimed one outlet. Others echoed with variations like “How You Take Your Coffee Could Point to Psychopathic Tendencies” and “Study Says People Who Drink Black Coffee Have Darker Personalities.” The leap from a statistical correlation to a sensational diagnosis was too tempting to resist.

Part of the appeal was obvious. Coffee is universal, and our morning routines feel personal, almost intimate. Suggesting that something as simple as how you take your coffee could expose hidden flaws turned an everyday habit into a personality test. It was clickable, shareable, and tailor-made for the social media age part curiosity, part party trick, part mild horror.

But in the rush to publish eye-catching stories, crucial nuances were lost. The study had looked at general bitterness preferences, not coffee drinking specifically. The correlations it found were small, meaning most people who enjoy bitter foods show no signs of psychopathy at all. And, as the researchers themselves cautioned, enjoying bitterness might reflect many things genetics, cultural exposure, even dietary habits rather than any sinister personality trait.

Psychologists who weighed in were quick to push back. Megan Willis, a senior lecturer in psychology at Australian Catholic University, noted that the research showed only a “weak positive relationship” between psychopathy and a liking for bitter flavors. Steven Myers, a psychology professor at Roosevelt University, reminded readers that findings like these must be replicated and interpreted with caution before being taken seriously. Yet these expert voices rarely made it into viral stories.

The Science of Bitterness

Bitterness has always been an acquired taste. From an evolutionary standpoint, our aversion to bitter compounds helped protect us from poisons found in plants and spoiled foods. To this day, newborns instinctively reject bitter flavors, while sweetness is almost universally welcomed. Yet as we grow, many people not only tolerate bitterness but come to relish it whether in a shot of espresso, a square of dark chocolate, or a splash of tonic water in a gin and tonic.

Part of this variation comes down to biology. Scientists have identified genes, such as TAS2R38, that influence how intensely people perceive bitter compounds. For some, bitterness registers as overwhelmingly sharp and unpleasant; for others, the sensation is muted or even appealing. This genetic lottery explains why one person might grimace at broccoli while another seeks out the bitter edge of kale, coffee, or IPA beers.

Culture also plays a decisive role. Across the globe, bitterness is not just accepted but celebrated. Italians revel in the concentrated bite of espresso and aperitifs like Campari. In East Asia, bitter melon is prized both as food and as traditional medicine, believed to purify and cool the body. In West African traditions, kola nuts with their potent bitterness hold social and spiritual significance. Repeated exposure shapes our palates: what first tastes harsh can, over time, become a flavor we not only accept but actively crave.

Psychologists suggest that enjoying bitterness may even reflect a taste for intensity. Christina Sagioglou, one of the Innsbruck researchers, compared it to riding a rollercoaster: the thrill comes from leaning into discomfort rather than avoiding it. For some, bitterness delivers that edge an experience that feels bold, challenging, even stimulating. This might explain why the taste resonates with people who also enjoy horror films, extreme sports, or other sensations that push the boundaries of comfort.

Beyond Coffee: Food Preferences and Personality

Coffee may have stolen the spotlight, but the idea that our food choices hint at our personalities is hardly new. Researchers and writers alike have long been intrigued by the possibility that what we crave on our plates might mirror who we are. The Innsbruck study on bitterness was only one piece of a broader conversation about how taste, behavior, and identity intertwine.

Take spicy foods, for instance. Several studies suggest that people who enjoy chili peppers and fiery flavors are more likely to score higher in “sensation-seeking” traits. They may be drawn to the thrill of intensity, whether it’s from rollercoasters, horror films, or the burn of capsaicin on the tongue. Sweetness, on the other hand, has been linked though loosely to agreeableness. In one study published in Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, participants who preferred sweeter foods were rated as more likely to display kindness, cooperativeness, and helpfulness.

Coffee orders themselves have also been the subject of playful investigation. Clinical psychologist Dr. Ramani Durvasula surveyed 1,000 people about their preferred styles of coffee, from plain black to frothy lattes. Her findings, published in the book You Are WHY You Eat, painted coffee habits as reflections of personality. Black coffee drinkers tended to describe themselves as “old-school,” efficient, and straightforward, though they could also be more rigid or moody. Latte lovers came across as helpful and open sometimes to the point of overextending themselves. Those who favored iced or blended drinks often scored higher in boldness and spontaneity, but also leaned toward impulsivity.

It’s worth noting, however, that even Durvasula herself cautioned against reading too much into these patterns. Just as zodiac signs can feel eerily accurate without being scientifically rigorous, food–personality links are often more entertaining than predictive. Our tastes are shaped by genetics, upbringing, culture, and even marketing—not just by who we are at our core.

Criticisms and Flaws in the Research

For all its viral fame, the Innsbruck study was far from flawless. While it offered intriguing data, experts were quick to point out several limitations that make its conclusions less ironclad than the headlines suggested.

The first issue lies in its methods. The research relied on self-reporting, where participants rated their own food preferences and answered dozens of personality questions. Self-reported data is notoriously unreliable, influenced by mood, memory, or even a desire to give socially desirable answers. Adding to the challenge, the participants were recruited from Amazon’s Mechanical Turk platform and paid less than a dollar for their time. Under those conditions, it’s easy to imagine some respondents rushing through the 50+ survey questions just to earn a quick payout.

A second weakness was definitional: what counts as “bitter” isn’t universal. The researchers listed foods such as cottage cheese, grapefruit juice, ginger ale, and rye bread as bitter, but many participants disagreed. If people can’t even agree on what tastes bitter, the connection between “bitterness” and personality becomes muddier. That helps explain why correlations between specific foods (like coffee) and personality traits weren’t nearly as consistent as the general “bitter preference” category.

Even the strongest correlations reported were relatively weak. For example, enjoying bitter flavors was found to predict at most about 19 percent of someone’s tendency toward sadism. That leaves more than 80 percent of variation unexplained by taste preference. In other words, the data suggest a faint statistical link not a reliable diagnostic tool.

Psychologists such as Megan Willis and Steven Myers emphasized this point, reminding the public that correlation does not equal causation and that these findings should be treated as early, exploratory work rather than firm conclusions. Yet those cautionary notes were largely lost in translation when the study entered popular media.

Why Oversimplification Hurts

One of the most damaging effects is the casual misuse of the word psychopath. In clinical terms, psychopathy is not shorthand for being cold, blunt, or difficult. It refers to a cluster of traits such as lack of empathy, manipulativeness, and persistent antisocial behaviors that exist on a spectrum. Many people exhibit mild versions of these traits without ever meeting the criteria for a diagnosis. By flattening this complexity into a coffee preference, media narratives blur the line between a serious psychological construct and everyday quirks.

This matters because language shapes stigma. When terms like “psychopath” are tossed around as jokes or exaggerated labels, they reinforce stereotypes and make it harder for people with real psychological conditions to be seen with empathy and understanding. A person living with antisocial personality disorder is not a meme; they’re an individual navigating challenges that require nuanced care and often professional support.

Oversimplification also misleads the public about science itself. Correlations are not causes, and small statistical associations cannot predict individual behavior. Presenting them as such fuels mistrust when people inevitably realize the claims don’t hold up. It reduces the credibility of psychological research, which already struggles against public skepticism and misinformation.

Most importantly, these narratives distract from richer truths. Food preferences are shaped by biology, culture, and habit; personality is molded by a web of genetics, upbringing, and experience. Reducing either to a single variable robs us of the chance to appreciate their complexity. While it might be fun to joke about the “dark side” of espresso drinkers, the reality is far more human: we are layered, nuanced, and far too complex to be defined by what’s in our cup.

A Cup, Not a Diagnosis

So, are black coffee drinkers really psychopaths? The answer is simple: no—or at least, not in the way viral headlines suggest. What the Innsbruck study revealed was a faint statistical link between a preference for bitterness and certain darker personality traits. That’s a far cry from diagnosing psychopathy at the coffee counter.

Yet the fascination this story sparked tells us something important. We are drawn to easy explanations, to the idea that a small habit might hold the key to who we are. But personality isn’t poured into us as neatly as cream into coffee. It is layered, evolving, and influenced by far more than what we drink in the morning.

What matters more than taste is how we live. Whether your cup is jet-black espresso, a foamy latte, or a caramel frappuccino, it says little about your morality or empathy. What it reflects, more often than not, is culture, habit, and maybe a touch of preference for intensity or sweetness. The real measure of character isn’t found in a flavor profile it’s in the choices we make, the relationships we build, and the compassion we extend to others.

So tomorrow morning, as you cradle your cup, remember this: your coffee is just coffee. The way you show up in the world once it’s empty that’s where the story of you really begins.