“Some people go around the world for love
They may never find what they dream of
What you won’t do, you do for love”
It’s amazing, the things love can push you to do. For instance:
- The iconic King horror Carrie would not have been possible without Stephen’s wife, Tabby. She found his discarded first draft in the trash and pushed him to finish.
- Director Baz Luhrmann could not have realized such eccentric films without his costume/production/set designer slash muse slash wife, Catherine Martin.
- Sam Smith would not sell out shows and make his listeners want to punch themselves in their bleeding hearts without his insatiable yearning to be loved.
- I would not have pursued writing so resolutely without the tender prodding of my beau, Miggy Migs.
Love really does push us to do some maddening things. But this post is not about those people.
It’s about waffles.
That’s right, waffles.
If Cata7yst is about the impulses that drive us, it would be unfair to leave out one of my main loves in this life: food. After all, there are few relationships in life as consistent, supportive, and gratifying as the one between my mouth and my stomach. I mean, if dogs are man’s best friend, then I’d consider food to be my other significant other. And if Instagram and Pinterest serve a prediction, I’m not alone in my addiction.
Here are some thoughts that ran through my mind as I tore through the streets for love.
Making eye contact with a stranger whilst shoving waffle fries and chocolate banana custard shake into my mouth, is not my proudest moment.
Well, hello sir. Yes I am eating my 2,000 calorie daily intake. In one sitting. In my car. By myself.
DON’T YOU JUDGE ME.
There are many things I doubt in life. My love for food is not one of them.
Driving half an hour and running over a box of glass for this was sooo worth it.
My best friends are planning career transitions, honeymoons in Europe, and dream weddings. My biggest dream in this moment involves a straw, a spoon, and my stomach.
Should I be more concerned that I’m having conversations with myself, or that I’m unstoppably obsessed with food?
Fine. go ahead and judge me. I don’t care. That much.
If you’re a slave to your stomach then these thoughts are normal to you. Thank you for not judging me.
To you, my fellow foodies, my kins of craving: I commend you for fulfilling your wishes daily. If you can dream it, you can eat it.
And to all the chefs out there… Teasers of our taste buds; pleasers of diverse palates: thank you for pumping our stomachs with a little thing called love.
You are our heroes.