Anticlimax.

Ever become obsessed with something for a long time, and when you finally get whatever it was you were obsessing over, it's very disappointing? My version of this obsession sputtered to a halt yesterday. For some reason several months ago I craved a honey-bun dipped in coffee. I can't remember if I'd ever eaten a honey-bun dipped in coffee, but suddenly it became to me the bright spot at the end of a long, dark tunnel. To most normal people, this obsession could be dealt with quite easily: buy a honey-bun and make some coffee. I tend not to do things the normal way. So, I waited and craved this concoction for several months until the right moment occurred. Yesterday was that moment.

After class I went to the vending machine and tried to get a honey-bun. The machine wanted exact change. I didn't have exact change. I left. There was a change machine nearby, but I didn't think of that until I was far away. I set off across campus to another building far away. I procured my honey-bun and made the long, long trek back to my car.

At home I prepared everything so that it was perfect: coffee warmed (not hot), honey-bun sectioned appropriately, correct utensils at hand, and enough paper towels wipe up any spills. At this point in the procedure, if the doorbell had rang and it was Britney Spears clad only in a raincoat saying, "Scott, I've come to be your love slave!" I would've said, "I'm not interested", closed the door, and returned to my honey-bun.

The first bite wasn't the orgasmic experience I expected. The second bite was dull, but cloyingly sweet. The coffee didn't improve the honey-bun and the honey-bun didn't do the coffee any favors either. I tried to make it work, but it just wasn't that good. The remains of the honey-bun ended up in plastic wrap for a later snack. I drank the rest of the now vaguely contaminated coffee, quite disappointed in the whole episode.