My boyfriend Poseidon (he's asked me to now refer to him as Poseidon in my blog postings, so I'm mockingly complying with his inane request) has an issue with my need for Diet Coke. I have an issue with my Diet Coke drinking as well, so Zeus and I are on the same page (yet he is under the impression that I plan to do something about my addiction). I must have my Diet Coke as soon as I wake up each morning. It is a natural part of my life. I wake up, I pull the cats off of my arms and legs and make my way downstairs.
As soon as I feed the cats (trust me, if I don't feed them first, they will eat me) I reach for the refrigerator, and my hands start to tremble as I grab for the beautiful shiny, cold silver and red can full of brown liquid goodness. I pop open the tab and inhale the first half of the can's contents. I don't even taste it; into my blood stream it goes! I am ready now. I can face whatever it is that will threaten to pull me down today. I am armed.
Even though Poseidon rolls his eyes and gives me a look of concern and pity each time I open one, he will sometimes take a sip of my Diet Coke if we are eating out. He doesn't like Diet Coke from a can, but he will take a sip if it is a fountain drink. I have images of me getting off the stuff finally, only to find him addicted! I fear I'll walk into the bathroom late at night and he will be hiding a can of Diet Coke inside the tank of the toilet, or in a secret place he has cut out in the wall behind the mirror.
His eyes will house permanent rings of black around them, and he will have a void look on his face that doesn't leave. He won't admit this vile addiction to a Coke product for a while, but eventually I will find out. I will beg and plead with him to go back to drinking his beloved tea. I will stay up with him all night as he goes through Diet Coke withdrawal. I'll hold his hand and whisper soothing thoughts as he suffers through the headaches and the DTs. If he can't kick the habit on his own, I'll find a peaceful Diet Coke rehab center in the desert somewhere. There has to be one in Arizona or New Mexico. You know, the kind with the serene former Diet Coke addicts who teach you yoga and mediation and breathing through your throat instead of drinking another Diet Coke?
I'd like to buy the world a Coke...
--Fortuitous Observer
