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Marital Woes…

Yesterday, I made one of the greatest mistakes of my life.

Ok, that's a tad dramatic… but I did make one of the most regrettable mistakes since I've graduated from college… and it was something that I could have easily avoided.

Yes, I admit it. I did this thing with full conscious knowledge of what the results would be and how much I would hate myself in the morning. I knew that Janet would never understand why I felt that I had to do it.

Even though it would be easy to pawn it off as an alcohol-induced mistake, in the depths of my heart, I knew what I would be committing… and I knew the suffering it would cause our marriage. The thing that really makes me feel like a monster is that even as I sat there in the car heading back into Hartford, I didn't feel even the slightest shred of remorse.

I saw the neon lights as I passed the adult world on Rt 66 and even though it was late and Janet would be wondering when I would be back, I decided to head in.

Yes, I did it. I went to Taco Bell.

See, Taco Bell and I have this sort of love-hate relationship. Back in college, it was one of the few fast foods that Janet and I could afford for lunch… and I ate it on a regular basis. I also experienced Moctezuma's Revenge on a regular basis as well. At least two times a week I would order up 5 soft tacos (hey, I was a growing boy&#41 and a soda, wolf them down in about three seconds, and then suffer unimaginable pain for the rest of the evening. I ate it out of desperation, and when we graduated and moved to San Francisco, I swore that the great Taco Bell soft taco would never again cross my lips.

In San Francisco it was easy. If you wanted cheap, quick Mexican food, you had tons of taquerias all around town that served up tasty fresh meals. In the five years I lived in San Francisco, I don't think I had Taco Bell once, and my intestines cheered and treated me quite well.

But last night as Chris (read ScowlZine to learn about Chris&#41 and I were heading back from the Willimantic Brewing Company, we came to a rapid agreement that food would be needed before we finished the 40 minute drive back to civilization (ok, to Hartford, the closest facsimile in Connecticut&#41. Chris spotted the Taco Bell as we drove towards home and out of convenience we decided to hit the drive through for a couple of soft tacos and some Mountain Dew.

The Toxic Hell of Taco Bell hit me like a freight train before we even hit I-384 (a mere 15 minutes away from the Taco Bell&#41. Trying to maintain a semblance of dignity, I strained to keep myself from erupting with the revenge of the great leader of the Aztecs. Barely successful, I spent the better part of the evening in miserable pain, exiling myself to another room so I wouldn't pass the overly offensive flatus while in the company of my completely unsympathetic wife (note: the cats were pretty damned aloof as well&#41.

It was a night of my moaning as I writhed in gastrointestinal pain, interspersed with pleas of "God, can't you keep it in" and "Why the hell did you go there". Even when I woke up this morning, I felt nauseous from the previous night's delight. It was 12 hours of misery… misery I knew I would have as soon as it passed through my lips. But I did it anyway, and most likely I will eventually do it again. And again. And *burp* again.

Yo Quiero Alka-Seltzer.

Posted in Scowls.

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