Saucy

When a man looks into the not-so-distant future and sees himself being with one, and only one, woman for the rest of his life, it can be a staggering realization.

He begins to have thoughts he's never had before.  As he senses his window of opportunity closing, he may be tempted to have one final fling before the day to end all dalliances arrives.

In extreme cases, he may give in, trying various other women.  Some he's had before, some he hasn't.

I speak from experience.

It seems strange that this is me -- a guy whose first time didn't happen until he was fifteen.  It was at a friend's birthday party.  We had gone to Pizza Inn to celebrate.  One thing led to another.  It was new and different, but I had no doubt I wanted to experience it again.

If you're not following -- and really, how could you be -- this has all been a reverse euphemism... for pizza.

My favorite pizza place within a five-galaxy radius, Marco's, is opening a store in my town this summer.  Just the mention of it elicits a Pavlovian response.  I'm as excited as a 10-year-old girl backstage at a One Direction concert.  (Analogies like this, that's what makes me beautiful?)

But Niall, Liam, Harry and those other two guys have nothing on the fresh, juicy toppings, sublime crust, and sinful cheesy bread that I will soon be ingesting on a far-too-frequent basis.  There's also the award-winning (Wikipedia's adjective, not mine) White Cheezy.  Or as I like to call it, the Kate Upton of pizzas.

I think that must be why, within the past week, I've had pizza three times at three different places, including twice in one day!  My subconscious knows that soon I will never be with another woman, er, pizza place, again.

I've become a pizza slut.  Doing whatever it takes to obtain new and different marinara. And they don't even have to be good-lookin' pizzas, either.

Last Sunday afternoon, I had a pizza with potatoes on it.  Potatoes, people!  What in the name of Papa John is going on?

This is what comes from realizing you will soon be spending the remainder of your days loving just one pizza place.

To be honest, I'm most worried about my weight.  I think we've all seen what happens to a lot of guys after they get married.  Amiright?

I'm kinda hoping they'll have a walk-up window.  With a treadmill.  Run while you wait.

Otherwise, I may have to jog to Canada and back, twice a year, just to keep my weight somewhere between slightly stocky and morbidly obese.

Of course if I did that, I could stop on the way and visit the original Marco's location in Oregon, Ohio.

It's a sort of mecca for chubby guys like me.

"When the moon hits your eye / Like a big pizza pie / That's amore / When the world seems to shine / Like you've had too much wine / That's amore..."