Guilty Pleasures

I really couldn’t help myself. I was hoping that no one would spot me leaving. I contemplated telling Josh in person, rather than in our normal email check-ins.

I really tried to just walk away. I did what I could to stave off the desire—I walked around the block. I tried to distract myself with necessary errands at the phone store. I even resorted to making sure I could avoid leaving a trail by paying in cash. I counted each cent and thought, “I mean, this is ok to do once or twice.”

I entered the store uncertainly, tugging at my hat to cover my eyes a bit. I kept my iPod on, so I could claim distraction enough to avoid talking to anyone. I even had the nerve to stare at the others who were gathered with a condescending look of “I can’t believe you’ve let it come to this—surely we should be anywhere else but here.”

In the end, however, my spirit resisted, but the flesh was weak. I took the plunge. I enjoyed every last second of it and quickly discarded every last shred of evidence. I did think for a moment, “no one has to know but me.”

But I can’t hide it. Maybe its not even a real problem. Maybe its my right. And maybe all there is to say is: Damn, that McDonald’s Cheeseburger was good.

sPg