• Steve G

I might have to break up with my girlfriend because of Taco Bell

Another night, another $5 box

So I’ve been a fan of Taco Bell since middle school when my friend first introduced me. I’m forever indebted to him for that, although I still don’t understand why the first thing he had me try was the Mexican pizza.

I never had Taco Bell too often though because the only one in my city was located on the opposite side of town and I never passed it. This Taco Bell also sucked: more often than not, the drive thru took at least twenty minutes. Trips to this restaurant that began with a little late night indulgence almost always ended in dashboard-pounding frustration. I’m not the type of insufferable prick who leaves negative reviews about places but this place made me come close. But like I said, I didn’t go there too often, so it’s no big deal.

But everything is different now. I’ve found a Taco Bell that doesn’t hurt me, and it’s on the way home from my girlfriend’s place. If I had to draw up the perfect fast food restaurant, this Taco Bell would be it. It’s borderline idyllic. There’s NEVER a line, even at Prime Taco Bell Time (you know what I'm talking about). An older woman, Meredith, works the window on Friday nights and talks to me about the weather as I wait for my quesadilla. And the food tastes like it looks like in the commercials.

Sounds great, right? It would be if I wasn’t so addicted. I usually leave my girl’s around midnight (or later) so trying not to stop is impossible. Sometimes, on the nights where I vow not to stop, I briefly blackout and wake up to find myself in the drive-thru.

I don’t know what to do. I’m cuddling with my girlfriend and she asks me what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking of whether I want a chicken quesarito or a Crunchwrap Supreme. "I'm thinking about how great it is to be here with you," I say, and she believes it.

I’m flying down 295 swerving in the middle lane like a drunk driver as I try to extract a quesadilla from its packet without spilling its insides.

I’m pulling into my driveway, shame setting in as I look at the empty $5 box sitting on the passenger seat like some girl I woke up next to in bed after a night of heavy drinking. And that’s when the hard question sets in, the one you never ask: am I with my girlfriend because I love her, or because she lives close to a Taco Bell?

P.S. This may seem like an advertisement but it’s not because literally nobody reads my blog

P.P.S. Whoever invented the $5 box should be canonized.

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