My dearest Taco,
Where do I begin to profess my love for thee? My love for you pours out of me like Fuzzy’s Butt Burnin’ Hot Sauce flows from its bottle on a busy Saturday afternoon.
I guess I must start from the beginning, my love.
It sounds silly now, but I thought I knew love before I found you. Don’t be jealous, darling, I was a fool back then, stuffing my face with burgers, pizza, gyros and occasionally sushi. I considered myself one of the “foodie” crowd, often finding myself on Yelp telling my friends about a new dive I discovered while walking my Labradoodle or how poor the service was at one of our city’s finest hotspots or to ask for “Steve” at my neighborhood bar.
And one day, there you were. Looking back at me as if we were old friends.
I was shy at first and didn’t know what to say. I felt like a schoolboy on the playground again, too afraid to talk to my crush and relying on a friend to deliver a note to her friend instead. But soon, that shyness was replaced by euphoria. It was true love!
As I grew older, your charms did not diminish. Just when I thought I had you figured out, you’d have a new topping or sauce that would reinvigorate our relationship. You even dressed yourself in a pancake instead of a tortilla. That was memorable.
It will come as no surprise that I continued my relationship with others in the beginning. I’d been hurt too many times in the past to put all my eggs in your basket, so to speak. I had just gotten over FroYo and didn’t think I could ever allow myself to trust another. But you showed me how to love again, and I’ve never looked back.
Just because we’re different, doesn’t mean we don’t belong together. Love doesn’t discriminate, and it certainly knows no size barrier. Just look at the couples parading through daytime TV. If they can make it, I know in my heart, we can, too.
My darling, I hope you think as fondly of me as I do of you. I know that you are loved by many suitors, who line up to win your hand. But I have to believe that I am the one who truly owns the key to your garlic-flavored heart.
All my love,
Fuzzy’s Taco Shop
P.S. There’s nothing going on between Quesadilla and me. We’re just friends. Burrito is causing drama again.