There was a time you know. When, even I was once a young little cuplet like you my dear. In fact let ol' granny tell you a small story. Back in my day when I was a young cuplet. My master, He was the highest line of fridge models. Futuristic gadgets, purest of the pure clean water tap and most of all my dear. He had the most biggest meatiest hands. And I absolutely loved the rush I'd feel. When he would come strutting into the kitchen every morning. Grab my handle and show me the best morning joe a teacup could imagine. If I was even more lucky he would snatch me up later in the evening too. Oh what a wondrous and blossoming relationship we had. I held his hot steamy goodness and he would jerk me up and enjoy that sweet delicious taste. But as my young heart found out quickly, some relationships are just a shallow excuse to grab your handle. It all ended. When that new mug came into the picture...better curves, bigger handle, deeper cup. Everything 'better' than me. He was all over this new fancy harlot of a mug. While I just gathered dust and had nobody but the mice to grab my handle. Now there I stayed. locked away in that dark lonely space of the cupboard. Weeping each and every night. Hoping that one day, I would get to see the light of day again and feel those big strong hands stroke my sides and caress my handle. Then I met your grandaddy, and let me just say. There isn't any grip tighter than toaster's, honey.