My French
Connection
written by Sarah Blodgett
I remember, like it was yesterday, the first time I fell in love. He was French, golden, and delicious. A salty character, but he was a real softy on the inside. He knew exactly how to please me. I had my first taste of him at McDonalds when I was five years old. I guess you could say it was destiny. We were childhood sweethearts, although I was much more inexperienced. He had already been around the block, in fact, he had over a billion served. I didn’t care. I am drawn to bad boys.
Always coming to me in a Happy Meal was so appropriate, because Frenchie was the definition of true happiness. Like a true gentleman, he always arrived with a gift. It was usually just a small toy, sometimes a collectable, but it still made me feel special.
The first time my lips touched Frenchie was like that game “Seven Minutes in Heaven”. (Although, I can’t possibly make an order of french fries last for seven minutes.) My senses opened up and the flavors burst on my tongue as the salty, greasy goodness comforted me like a hug from an angel. It was a rush of excitement, and I had butterflies in my stomach.
Frenchie and I became serious very quickly, but like any unhealthy relationship, there were side effects. See, every time I had problems at home or at school, I would run to him for comfort. Over time, my tiny body started to expand rapidly, my energy declined, and I needed Frenchie’s comfort more than ever.
I just couldn’t get enough. I craved Frenchie constantly, but the more time we spent together, the worse my problems got; and the worse my problems got, the more time we spent together. It was a destructive cycle.
Soon, my parents decided to step in. They tried to distance me from my love and encourage me to date around. My parents introduced me to fruits and vegetables, and, while they were enjoyable, they couldn’t live up to the pleasure of my one true love.
At 11, and desperate to save me from a lifetime of heartache, my parents took action and signed me up for a support group. Sitting in Weight Watchers meetings every week was eye opening. I realized that other people were also involved with my love. He was cheating on me, and I had to walk away.
Of course, like any unhealthy relationship, Frenchie was difficult to quit. I tried to stay away, and I even dated around. However, over the years, when I would find myself lonely and hungry for comfort, I would always find him. He seemed to be around every corner, and was popping up everywhere.
Finally, in college, I decided to make a change. For three years, I never saw Frenchie. I avoided his usual hangouts, just to make sure I didn’t run into him. I dropped 50 lbs., and I was in the best shape of my life.
At 23, and a college grad, I decided to move from my small hometown to the big city. It was so exciting and overwhelming. With so many changes and new adventures happening, my past seemed to fade away.
Then one day, I spent the evening in the city. I was shopping and getting accustomed to my new surroundings, when hunger pains set in. There he was, Frenchie. We locked eyes in Downtown Boston, and I was drawn to him with nervous excitement. It had been three years, so surely I was over him. I could go back this once and walk away. I was sure of it. When my lips touch him, a feeling of pure pleasure rushed through my whole body. Happiness was back in my life.
But the next day, guilt set in. Had I given in too easily? Did I make a mistake? Were my jeans tighter, or was it my imagination?
I know I planned to walk away, but Frenchie moved in next door to my gym. I would go to the gym with good intentions, but I would always end up at Frenchie’s afterwards. I would stop by on my lunch break, even lying to my mother about where I was. I was alone in the city with a miserable job and searching for comfort in a familiar embrace. My addiction was back full force, and the pounds were coming on again fast.
I am happy to say, at 29, that I have walked away from Frenchie permanently. I changed gyms, and left my miserable job. The cravings are still there, but I have broken the vicious cycle and tried to look for love elsewhere.
Although I have tried, I have yet to meet another man that could give me as much pleasure as Frenchie, but I’m confident it will happen.
I guess you never truly get over your first love.
Sarah Blodgett is a comedian from Boston.
Visit myspace.com/sarahcomedy.