My Secret Love Affair


Dear Pizza Delivery Man,

It’s been awhile since I last saw you.  Thank you for helping big butts pop up all over America.  I like big butts, and I can not lie.  I confess, you are on my mind while I drive, while I’m at work, and when I’m trying to figure out what to cook for dinner.  I watch the clock, like it’s a Vegas slot machine, and you’re the bright, shinny quarters that are spewing from it.  You’re so convenient, and you don’t ask much from me in return.  The smell you bring to my house is unexplainable.   It makes my mouth water, it gives my tummy butterflies,  I close my eyes at the vision of you leaping across sunflower fields, while holding pizza boxes above your head, and at the top of the field, is my front door.  These thoughts give me goosebumps from head to toe.  The surprises you pull out of your hot, green bag make me giddy.  I don’t know why, but you can push my button…I mean doorbell like no one else.  When you leave, I wonder when we will see each other again.  My stomach aches for what you deliver to my front door. I know I’m not your one and only,  but I just wanted to take a minute to say “Thank You.”   Thank You, for doing the most unappreciated, never ending job of delivering pizza to my house, and all the other houses. Thank You, for putting up with the people who don’t tip. Thank You, for the intense commitment it takes for you to leave your own home night after night. You will always have a piece of my heart. Counting down the days we will be able to see each other again.




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