With this new theme based system I am going to write the group themed stories under this wonderful new semi acronym.
So where would a man be if he had not loved and lost and loved again? Here mostly, but he could be in Greece too. I have never been there and care only for their food and spirits.
Let me see… this is a tough subject for such an amateur lover as myself. I have of course had women in my life and age range that I desired. They were clearly out of my reach and me being so self-conscious of my faults. I might never have shown passion to anyone or really flirted to be honest, I always end quickly in the friend zone, because I know they need someone to talk too when they are heartbroken over the “jerk” boyfriend or at one time, cheating girlfriend. Never saw her as a lesbian, but I didn’t really know her from other than high school.
Now I think more than you probably do, that there is no real story to tell here. That is where everyone is wrong about everything ever known… you jerks! I hate everything now because you made everything look cool and now it is hip to have everything. I don’t want everything anymore… you can have it… except my things. They are mine! So nuts to you and the mount you’re riding on!
I could tell a story; how a celebrity would never love me as much as I potentially could masturbate to her pictures. Or tell a heart tearing story about my fears of publicly opening up and telling who I really am. Instead… and as usual for me it is an instead where none should be, I will become abstract and push the interpretation of the theme to suit my mood at this very moment best.
Okay, here we go.
Conditions: Warm, Tired, Fed, Recently been on toilet, Long day at work, Still has cola in the fridge and a noodle cup for be’fed. If brunch is before lunch, be’fed is before bed… the ‘ is to make it sound better… I failed in that though.
Now let us step into the world of bacon. A simple mans request and the nectar of gods. Bacon has been a love in my life that has not benefitted me. This tasty treat has manipulated my mind and made me believe that I am happy when I consume it. It will turn its ugly back on me and poison my body and dull my senses. Like chocolate this gastronomical treason has me to believe that adding it to various meals will improve my likeness for new and inspiring food with that slight smoky taste of something that has burned just enough. Like real smoke it slows the mind and in plain sight it is acting like it is invisible.
The years of camouflaging itself in plain sight, I have become content with its presence and it has shown me love that I seldom find in other food sorts. It has exchanged passionate words with my tongue and slid sensually down my throat like… [Insert naughty pun here]. There has been no restrains between us. I have given this cruel mistress my heart and it is holding it hostage like a dominatrix. Never truly letting me go, my yearning for this guilty pleasure surpasses my common sense. I want more… I want it both in private and in plain sight. It has become a small obsession with me and a table without guilty pleasures seems naked and wasted potential for me.
I can’t say that I truly weep if there is none. Like a drug I can see that it is hurting me more than I care to admit and yet it never truly loves me. Dead and disdainful this taunting tenderized trifle has taken me whole. I can only throw myself at its mercy and never receive the approving smile or nod I so desperately need in this fake relationship. It never loved me… it couldn’t love me… not a person who fought so little before giving in… so vague an adversary… so deep a trance.
There is not a single person who could tell you that bacon isn’t food for thought. It is good for your head and not the body. Yet it is my body that needs all the help it can get. If it was strong enough to one day win over my head, I would maybe be another man… another being… a happier being?
I have listed various things throughout this page and yet I must insist on telling you that I am not a large man. I am definitely not skinny… but fat… no. Crafty is even a term that is over my level. That might be why people don’t recognize me as anything but a friendly soul to talk too. By losing a visual definition I lose a reference point in the grey meat market, bland… average… but with bacon I am someone… A slave… A willful slave of gastronomical punishment. A Pork Slab Demon!