Two weeks ago, I flew up to Chicago for the weekend to spend some quality time with family I have up there, but also to visit a dear friend of mine, who had moved from Dallas a few years ago to be with his partner, who had just recently passed away.
To say this guy is special to me is an understatement. He was one of my first online buddies when I started skulking around gay chat sites, looking for someone to just talk. He invited me up to Dallas for my first weekend out at gay bars. He helped me find an apartment and put me in touch with the right people about work when I made the choice to move to Dallas. He piloted me through the rough seas of coming out in your mid-twenties and the dangerous shoals that exist around the gay community. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that, without him, I would be like 25% of Dallas-area men my age and be HIV-positive.
Unfortunately, he may have contributed to the destruction of my ass.
Now, NDT is nothing overly spectacular (as far as I'm concerned), but I do spend a fair amount of time at the gym and am more than a bit concerned about my weight, having a few prime examples in my family of what happens when you let it get out of control. If you come to the Thirty, don't expect sugar for your coffee, cookies for dessert, or chips for snacking -- they are banned from the place.
However, on the night I arrived, tired after a long week, my buddy had laid out a beautiful spread for a late supper....and then, as we were pushing back from the table, savoring a fine meal and a wonderful merlot accompanying it.....he brought them out.
Dreyer's Dibs.
It was all over from there.
I don't know what it is about these things. There are calories galore in them. They practically drip sugar and butterfat. In short, they are everything that NDT is against.
And I can't stop eating them. It's like smooth, creamy crack.
You have been warned. And with that, I'm off to the elliptical trainer before I have to install backup lights and beepers.
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