Pixie Stix. First love. It’s beautiful, it’s fleeting, it’s full of empty calories that leave you hungry for more, but sick to your stomach. You remember it for the rest of your life but can’t ever go back.
Tiramisu. Sweetness soaked in alcohol. Doesn’t last very long. Popular among college students.
Sweet Potato Donuts. Once you’re 25 or older, love stories usually start on a depressing note. One character is a loner and the other is a jerk who realizes they need to change their ways. They gradually fall in love, kiss, then have a huge falling out over a small misunderstanding. After months apart (during which both protagonists mope around), one of them shows up as the music swells, some sickeningly sentimental gift with them, showing their true love they’ve changed. Kisses happen. Sometimes marriage and kids. But then the sweetness can turn sour, as fermentation happens.
Fried Pickles. After the lovers have been soaked in the brine of cohabitation for long enough, they’re at the point where the only way they can make it through the day is if they’re medicated to the point where they sometimes have problems remembering their names, their jobs, and what time their kids get out of lacrosse and ballet practice.
Liver and Onions. Daily tasks become torture. Nothing seems to taste or feel the way it once did. You cry, but can’t explain why. Your medications stop working.
Gruel. You are a lump made up of smaller lumps made up of smaller lumps, etc. You would taste better with salt or cheese, but your cholesterol and blood pressure are too high for either to be a part of your diet. You are asleep by8pm and sleep in a separate bedroom from your spouse; possible a different house, different city, different country.
Quinoa. Say that fifteen times in a row. Keen-woh. Pretty soon you’re saying Woh-keen who-keen, and someone who overhears thinking you’re just mumbling “walking, walking,” to yourself. They take your advice and keep walking, as far away from you as possible, until you’re alone on a sidewalk, watching the mass exodus of humanity. You begin to crave pixie stix.
Which food are you in this week before your wedding? I have a feeling it’s pixie sticks. And actually, I like quinoa thank you!