I am what I dream

Have you ever had an addiction you were embarrassed by? Not smoking, or drinking, or trashy romance novels, because those are accepted in a certain way. But something you crave that you can’t really tell anyone about?

Mine is the Olive Garden. I know it’s uncool. I know it’s terribly uncool. But at night, I have food dreams. A great number of these food dreams revolve around ice cream, but an equal number revolve around Olive Garden salad. And breadsticks. And lasagna.

When was the last time I was actually at the Olive Garden? I’ve thought long and hard about this. I think it was March 2004. So, a year and a half ago. I was visiting my family in Pennsylvania. They don’t know how uncool the Olive Garden is. They don’t understand that chain restaurants have been prohibited from my life. So we went. And I ate so much food. And now I have dreams about it.

Every time I pass the Olive Garden downtown, I stare at it. My mouth waters. Have you ever noticed that the Olive Garden downtown has a purplish kind of awning with a low-key sign and not the bright green, obnoxious signs we are used to? It’s as if even the Olive Garden knows it is uncool and is trying to distance itself from itself.

I know it’s bad. And my boyfriend can’t eat there. I refuse to go by myself and all my friends are way too cool for it. So it will have to wait. I will have to continue my lascivious dreams concerning lasagna until the next time I visit my family.