Recently, I discovered (or “fervently remembered”) what may be the key to my addiction to love affair with Pepsi (aka god’s ambrosia):

My first real kiss was enfused with Pepsi.

It was 2001, I was 27 years old and looking for love…

just kidding.

It was 1990? ’91? Somewhere around when I was 16. It was at my first real girlfriend’s house on her living room floor.

Aside: To my other first girlfriend that I had when I was in 2nd grade, I’ll always love you baby; but, you see, we’re just different people now and i have to let you go. And, to be honest with myself, I was a pretty shitty boyfriend. I never took you anywhere, and we never did anything save the occassional game of Freeze Tag. It seems, in fact, that the only thing that really made us boyfriend & girlfriend was that we ran around calling each other that.

To continue, girlfriend’s living room floor. We’d been dating for a couple of weeks I think. Going to movie’s, hanging out at each other’s houses, seeing each other after school and between classes. It was, I think, a weekend because it was during the day. Your parents and sister weren’t home (a fact my own parents would have freaked out about if they’d known how little they were ever around… mom stop reading!). We’d gone to lunch somewhere… I’m thinking Subway for some reason (it would have been in my budget) but it may have been Taco Bell (both places that serve Pepsi). I had refilled my drink before we left and I had a big blue cup full of Cherry Pepsi. We were sitting next to but facing one another in a position perfect for Indian Leg Wrestling, and I was sipping nervously from my cup every 10 seconds.

We were talking about something inane (The weather? What our favorite movie was?) when I felt The Gravity and we kissed. It was cold, it was wet, and it was… delicious!

Now, she’s long gone, but faithful Pepsi still remains. I’m not sure, but I think that probably means I’m sick in the head.