A Dirty Love Letter to Dirty Chinese Food

Dear Dirty Chinese Food,

I want you. There, I said it. I want you so bad it hurts.

I thought I was done. Done with this. Done with you.

I said I was going to clean up my life, make something of myself.

Maybe find somewhere with a nice A-health rating, somewhere that’d treat me the way I deserve.

But somehow I just can’t stay away.

So here I am, just like we both knew I’d be. And guess what?

This time, I’m gonna f—king enjoy it.

I’m gonna have you shamelessly, openly, relentlessly.

I want you everywhere, all the time.

Not in some nice, farm-to-table, pseudo-fusion-gastropub, though, no. I want you on the loading dock in a back alley in Chinatown. I want you in front of the fish tank next to a giant Buddha statue.

I want to see the stains on the linoleum floor as I suck out all the juices from between your trembling chicken feet toes.

I want you spread out over a hot, steaming bed of noodles.

Or when you’re feeling vulnerable and shy.

And you know how crazy I get when you’re wet.

Which, by the way . . .

Is.

All.

The.

F—king.

Time.

God, you’re disgusting, Chinese food.

And I wish I knew how to quit you.

I could have so much better.

And we both know how this is going to end.

But tonight . . . tonight none of that matters.

Just get inside me already.

Sincerely,

Me

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Picthx authentic chinese