Everyone.
I am no exception to this rule, I have many of my own.
Secrets with friends are probably the best ones, while simultaneously being the worst. You love that you have something you share with someone, but you never know if they are going to keep their mouth shut about it. So you live in constant fear that one day, everyone will know what you've done. You made a pact for you all to stay quiet. You can't go back on it. A pact's a pact; plain and simple.
Every group of friends makes a pact. You know the one, from that night in August where that thing happened, that you ALL promised never to speak of again. I mean it brought you so much shame that you knew every single person you have ever met, or will ever meet, would judge you for it. Yeah! That one! I made a pact like that with my GBFF Terrence once, and I'm obviously going to tell you all about it.
Now, before you all get self-righteous on me. I know that breaking a best friend pact is worse than killing someone (not really, murder is awful), but he and I have discussed this. It needs to be said. It's time; we have held this in long enough.
This is the story of the fattest thing I've ever done.
My friendship with Terrence began as most of my friendships do; we bonded over our love of food. This bond, however, was different than most. The passion that existed between us and food was something neither of us had ever found in another person before, and it was beautiful. We plan our lives around the next time we are going to eat. If he and I have things to do and food is not involved, we honestly won't do said things. We blow it off and go eat. Which is how I feel everyone should live their lives.
One night, about 5 years ago, he and I went on our weekly Tuesday night date to visit my sister. She was a bartender, so a bunch of us would go down and drink for a few hours. Our reasoning for being there was never the drinks, however. We were there solely for the food, and to spend time with my sister of course.
On this particular Tuesday, we were feeling especially hungry. We ordered about 75% of the appetizer menu to share, and then some. Which was a lot of food, and I mean a lot of food. There were nachos, potato skins, French fries, chicken tenders, mozzarella sticks, and a cheeseburger that we split with even more fries. I think there might have been a salad thrown in there just for shits and giggles.
We. Ate. Everything.
After ingesting this delicious poison, he and I were fully hating ourselves. We couldn't move. Even though we hated ourselves, we were so proud of the fact that we finished it all.
This is not the secret. This was, and still is, an incredibly normal situation that occurred. Ask anyone that knows us and they would say the same thing. I'm sure they would add some colorful sentence fillers like, "disgusting," or "animals," when describing it, but they'd still agree with us. Which is all that matters, really.
What happened next is that of which we do not speak. I don't know if it was the fact that we were both experiencing a euphoria after eating, or what, but the I swear on my life, that the following conversation occurred telepathically.
- "So what do you want to do? Are you ready to go home?"
- "I don't know, I definitely don't want to go home though."
- "God, I'm so full!"
- "Me too!"
- "Wanna go get food?"
- "YES!"
We drove to Denny's and ate even more nachos, our own separate meals, and then shared a dessert.
I honestly could not tell you what in the ever loving hell was the matter with us, but we could not stop eating. Our life expectancy dropped a solid 5 years that night. Neither of us have any idea how we managed to survive it, and we honestly believe that if we tried this now, it would kill us. No question about it.
So, that's it. That is our deep dark secret. It feels good to have gotten that off my chest, but to be completely honest, I feel more hungry than anything.
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