Cottage Cheese: A Letter of Passion

Dear Cottage Cheese,

I know it’s been years since we’ve been together but I have a confession. Please do not think that this is presumptuous of me but I can’t hide this any longer. Cottage cheese, I love you. Please forget the years where I claimed to be lactose intolerant; I was a fool. I’ll admit, I didn’t think of you much and I thought you’d be out of my life forever. I just want you to know, I’m glad you’re back.

I saw you this summer for the first time in years. I didn’t think much of you at first, but I was going through a rough patch with food. I chose you basically because I was tired of eating side salads, potato chips, and baked beans. I skimmed off a layer of your creamy goodness and scooped it onto my plate. With the first bite, I knew you were something different, something special. My taste buds erupted with a passion I have experienced only a few times before. I tried to deny my feelings and chalk it up to a one-time fling. The moment was right, you and I were right, but how could I? You’re just a carton of cottage cheese and I‘m just a starving woman! I tried to get you off my mind but my stomach was just so full. One evening at dinner, I caved. I searched through the refrigerator and you were gone. Where did you go? I knew then it would be impossible. I can’t put up with something that leaves me so soon. Even though I was upset, I still couldn’t forget you or our passionate dinner.

I started to add you to my grocery list and then I’d cross you off the list. There’s no way I could eat a whole carton of cottage cheese, I’d think. I would go to the grocery store and pass by the milk, dip, and yogurt aisle. I saw other women shopping you, checking your expiration date. I admit I was a little jealous. That’s probably why I never picked you up. How can I compete with those women?

But tonight, oh the brilliance of tonight! Tonight, when I was least expecting it, you showed up on my dinner table. I thought I was starting to get over you but I knew when I saw you on the dinner table that I would never get over you. You were lounging in your plastic purple and white Belfonte tub, slightly sweating from being left out of the refrigerator for a few minutes. I knew, I just knew that I had to have you. I’m not one to take rejection lightly so I only go after what I know I can have and I knew, oh I knew, you would be mine. During the dinner prayer, I could feel myself salivate as I looked at you, as I thought about what I wanted to do to you. Sweet Jesus, I must have you, I silently prayed.

I’m sorry if I was a bit forward but I couldn’t resist digging my spoon deep into your container and laying you out on my dinner plate. I could tell that you enjoyed it as I noticed that your juices started to ooze across the plate towards my spoon. That’s all it took, mister. My spoon was magnetic to your curds. It took mere seconds for a spoonful of your curds, your milky curds, to be dancing on my taste buds. I could feel your simple, yet elegant, flavor move towards the back of my mouth and down my esophagus as I continued to crave more of you.

I knew that I could inhale all of you if I didn’t take it slow so I decided to move on to the spicy meat that presented itself on my plate. The cayenne pepper that decorated the meat only created a stronger desire to have you inside of me. I immediately shoveled another spoonful of your body into my mouth and the result was positively orgasmic. The spiciness of the meat fighting against your strong milky complexion was enough to send me over the edge. I had never experienced something so powerful in my life and I knew at that very moment that there is something real between us. I no longer lust after you. I love you. I want to devour you.

Of course, like all good things, our dinner-time ecstasy had to end. But I want you to know that I am positive we can make this work. I want to snack on you. I want to feast on you for dinner. I want to eat savory peaches off of your luscious body during breakfast. I want to open my refrigerator and see you happily waiting on the top shelf, anxiously yearning for my spoon to thrust into your carton. I want to see it in your eyes; I want to see you want my spoon.

There’s something magical about our relationship; I only hope you feel the same way about me. So if you love me, let me know. I’m dying to have my feelings reciprocated and to finally push this coyness aside. I love you and that’s what matters. I want you to know that I’m happy to have you in my life again and I hope you never leave. Even if we are only casual friends, I will still praise the gods that you and I have had this once in a lifetime experience.

Yours truly,

L