Except for sociopaths and spectacular narcissists, the experience of falling in love is holistically universal; and infinitely exciting. For me, it is also instantaneous. Always has been.
In my world, falling in love has never ever been about “becoming friends first,” “growing closer” or “letting the feelings develop.” (shoot me) It’s been more like the “Fast and Furious” franchise, i.e. fast and furious. Historically, when that cherub love arrow strikes, I quickly morph into a thunderstruck, puddle of limerance. And as mentioned, this rare and glorious phenomenon happens in a mere nano-second. In that quantum moment, I know. It just IS.
Strangely, that’s what occurred recently when I ate lunch at a famous, members-only club in Hollywood. I fell passionately in love, but not with a human being…
When a good friend Sandi, who is on the Board of Directors, of a members-only establishment, invited me to their Friday buffet lunch last May, I accepted. I had been declining her repeated invitations, and looking back, I should have said yes straight away – I should have said “yes,” because this is an enchanting place that has been in existence for over 40 years and not everyone gets entry. Its’ members rate in the thousands, and it’s known throughout the world. Sitting on top of a Hollywood hill, it is a striking, castle-like, mansion, converted to a club and decorated with turrets – a real stunner. In addition, everyone smiles a lot, including the valet. Also, guests and members are required to dress upscale. Men must wear a suit and tie. I once saw staff run around madly, looking for a tie for Dick Van Dyke. Mr. Van Dyke was jovial (he’s always jovial!), but the establishment makes no exceptions.
My friend met me in the main lobby, and graciously guided me into the warm, old-world dining room which was already filled with veteran members, schmoozing, table-hopping and having a jolly good time. After a few introductions, we got seated, grabbed a large plate, piled them high, and “dove in.” Admittedly, Sandi had raved about the quality of food at this place, but for some reason, I doubted her. She was correct, and I had to cry foul because the buffet experience was totally excellent – not exotic, gourmet or unusual – just extremely good. The chopped Caesar salad was especially excellent because it was chopped. Out of respect for my vegetarian readers, I’ll not detail exactly what I personally ate – think of an Elk’s convention and that will suffice. I liked the food a lot. It reminded me a little of my mid-western roots.
The one dish, however, that caused a seismic shift in my taste buds, brought me to spasms of uncontrollable delight, and caused me many visits to the buffet line, was the creamy…(drum roll please) macaroni and cheese (heretofore abbreviated: “mac&chz”). Having eaten over 300 hundred versions of mac&chz in my lifetime, including Kraft, of course, this particular concoction was remarkable. It was sinfully rich, irresistibly and even sexy. So scrumptious and perfect was the yellow pasta, it begged for a nickname. In an instant, my subconscious and the great Universe delivered it: Magic Mac. I labeled the mac&chz, Magic Mac – here’s my point: If this recipe were a male stripper (which makes no sense), it would most certainly be Channing Tatum – i.e. Magic Mike. Trademark office, here I come: Magic Mac is a franchise!
Allow me to briefly describe my thrilling and romantic discovery. Fully expecting that the lunch buffet mac&chz would taste like it was shipped from the Veteran’s Hospital, I scooped a small spoonful onto my plate out of sheer habit. And except for the unusual, reddish brown crumble on top, it looked like any garden-variety side dish, at any Sunday church bizarre.
Much to my shock, it was not garden-variety. It was fantastic! It was brilliant. The long, slender, curly pasta, dripping with a myriad of unidentifiable cheesy flavors, and covered by some kind of baked, crispy topping, was a fucking revelation. A revelation I tell you. My taste buds flew into an altered state, causing the love hormone, oxytocin, to flood my entire system. And although I have never taken the love-drug, MDMA (also known as Ecstasy), I imagine my reaction to the mac&chz was akin to being high on MDMA. All in all, it tasted like falling in love.
I met my soul mate that day. Like a beautiful love song, it was a deeply visceral, life-altering experience. Without fully realizing it, I had been searching my whole life for Magic Mac, and now that I found him, there would never be another. My fidelity (and taste buds) were instantly locked and loaded.
As pleasurable as it all was, my intense attraction to Magic Mac presented a slight problem. Somehow, someway, I would have to obtain the recipe. I was not going to sleep well or catch a good breath unless this mission impossible was accomplished expediently. Just thinking about the way Mac tasted and smelled, sent pleasure hormones rushing through my torso, igniting feelings of passion, lust, and anticipation. Suddenly, all propriety went out the door. The day after lunch I asked my friend (on the Board of Directors) if she could please obtain the sacred, cheesy recipe from their talented chef. She graciously offered to ask the chef. She appeared confident.
It’s been a few days now. Haven’t heard a word. Anticipation mounts and my monkey mind is bouncing around the cage.
TIME has stopped. My heart is anxious. I cannot sleep, eat or concentrate. I have not heard anything yet about the Magic Mac recipe… The anticipation and insecurity are torture, as is always the case in matters of love. This reminds me of Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 1958 epic poem, “I Am Waiting” – an eccentric and brilliant piece of writing that went on for pages and pages. 59 years later, it still stands up (and was my favorite poem in college).
Dear Lawrence, I too am waiting. I am waiting for my new lover to call. While I wait, there’s a both anticipation, and hope. And during this emotional limbo, I am left wondering if the affair with Magic Mac will continue. “Will I hear from him?” “Will there be a relationship?” “Will we commit?” “Will he love me tomorrow?” It was a cacophony of typical lovesick questions.
Well, sometimes, happy endings ensue. I did not have to wait long. My cracker-jack friend, always game for a challenge, obtained the coveted recipe. When Magic Mac finally arrived, via PDF format at precisely 3 PM on the following Monday, I stopped everything, downloaded the doc and hit “save.”
WHEW. Mac came back. He called. Thank you God! Without further adieu, and without any foreplay; and like an afternoon quickie, I thrust Magic Mac directly into my “in-box.” Ahhhh. With such relief and pleasure co-mingling, it felt like a non-chemical version MDMA had just flooded my body, mind and spirit…it was what I might describe as “organic ecstasy.”