I had an affair once. A deep intense affair. It would start with a craving. Though ‘craving’ is way too meek a word for how this felt. It was a deep, gut-gnawing need that had to be filled. I’d drive great distances for it—in rain or snow. I’d break other commitments for this rendezvous.
The consummate union was intense and soul-filling and always exactly what I needed. Bliss, satiation, heaven.
But after each ‘date’ was over. Things got bad. From gut-gnawing to gut-wrenching. There was pain, a hangover-like stupor, vomiting and spasms, the feeling that my insides were glued together…and shut.
And even though I knew that the aftereffects were going to be horrendous, I couldn’t stop myself from going in again. I was addicted.
To peanut butter.
I thought it would never end…until one day, the glob on the end of my spoon didn’t look as appetizing and the taste didn’t thrill me like it used to.
I didn’t believe it, of course. So I wolfed the peanut butter down anyway. On at least three more occasions. Until I finally realized that I was done. And when I was done, I was really done. I went from saying that it was the best food in the universe and daydreaming about it, to never eating it and saying mean, nasty things about it to other people.
And these people were shocked. One day, I loved peanut butter passionately, and the next not so much. Why?
Well, for starters, it was just so available. In my kitchen cabinets, on every grocery store shelf in the universe, even on restaurant menus, in ice cream, on waffles. It was just too easy.
I have to admit, other things have gone the way of the peanut butter. It’s also happened (though perhaps not quite as intensely) with my favorite salad dressing, onions, a few boyfriends and, today, my once beloved Whole Foods salmon, avocado, brown rice sushi. And for all the same reasons.
The relationship with all of those things is forever changed. I detested them, then I was able to appreciate them from afar, then I let them in every now and again, but the passion? Gone.
Is there a lesson? There must be, but I’m guessing it depends who you talk to.
Some might say that I didn’t exercise caution, that I lived recklessly without moderation, without balance. That I had too much of a good thing…and now it’s gone.
But, others might claim I took full advantage of the passion, the desire, the honeymoon period. And so, I played it out until the end. With gusto. Sucking it up like a vacuum. Until I was full.
Image credit: Diane Jacquay