Dear Trader Joe’s Cookie Butter,
You may not remember this, but we met sometime during the fall of 2012. You were sitting on a shelf in the snack aisle of the store, looking all cute in your unassuming, modestly sized jar. I was pushing a shopping cart full of my usual grocery fare – once again on an empty stomach. (You can imagine the poor decisions I’ve made while hungry for a hearty meal.) The guy at the sampling station told me you were available, and I couldn’t help but notice that others were checking you out, especially after getting a taste of what you had to offer. Mr. Sampling Station had spread you on an apple slice for me, and I knew this was the beginning of something special. My taste buds were telling me this was a match made in food heaven, but my brain was telling me I was embarking on a dangerous journey down a path of self-destruction.
I bought you right there and then. A spoonful of you, and all was right with the world. You brought the warm fuzzies. You comforted me in ways I hadn’t experienced in a long time. You were there when I came home from a grueling day at work. You were there when I was too tired to get up from the couch on a Saturday night. (I couldn’t help it if I had been fully committed to that Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon on cable.) I didn’t care if you were “smooth” or “crunchy.” I loved you for all of your characteristics.
I went through your first jar within a few days.
Then I introduced you to my friends. I told them that they had to meet you. I wanted them to know about how well you treated me, what you meant to me. It seemed as if I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without cookie butter. How did I get through my days without cookie butter before cookie butter? I wasn’t ashamed to declare my love, to shout from rooftops that I was in a relationship with a delicious and highly addictive processed spread.
|Now this is just cruel.|
“Fuck you. Why did you do that? What have you done to me? Now I have to get my own jar,” she told me after eating two more scoops of your smooth, buttery goodness.
See? That was just her way of expressing how thankful she was for me bringing you into her life. It was only a matter of time before I introduced you to my other friends, family, and coworkers.
But then, things started to change. I started to rely on you more than I wanted. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. My mind was consumed by the thought of consuming you. Luckily I’m self-aware enough to recognize the first signs of an obsession, and I knew I had to take some action.
I tried to keep my distance, but it only led me down a similarly disastrous road. When I attempted to avoid the problem, I turned to other butters. There was that organic almond butter I met at the farmers market last summer. It was fun while it lasted, but the truth is, almond butter isn’t as affordable as you, Cookie Butter. And that “business trip” I took to Peru? I had met a nice hazelnut chocolate spread that accompanied me on my excursion throughout the Sacred Valley. My tour guide had made the introductions, and it was just a fling. Please believe me when I tell you how guilty I felt while in the company of these other butters. The whole time I kept thinking, No one else deserves my spoon like Cookie Butter does.
But you might as well be a tool of the Devil himself. (My friends’ words, not mine – I swear.) Not only have you corrupted the nutritional content of food that’s supposed to be healthy for me (celery sticks, apple slices, multigrain wheat bread), you’ve corrupted my eating habits.
In no way am I placing all of the blame on you in this abusive relationship. It was a two-way street, for sure. I should have known that this is where we would end up. And that’s why I’m finally doing something about it. I can’t let this insanity carry on any longer. It’s not fair to both of us.
That said, I think it’s time for us to take a break.
I’ll still visit you in the aisles of my local Trader Joe’s stores. And maybe, every once in a while, I’ll bring one of your jars home with me for old time’s sake. But I can’t promise anything else beyond that. I have to take some precautions and practice what many health and nutrition gurus call restraint.
Trust me, Cookie Butter, this is for the best.
I have no doubt that you will find many other meaningful relationships. I’m sure you will find a cozy home in someone else’s cupboard. Maybe a lonely housewife who needs to distract herself from sex fantasies involving her Brazilian Pilates instructor. Or a potbellied security guard who needs some companionship during those late night shifts. I just hope that whoever is lucky enough to find you appreciates your deliciousness and comforting qualities. You deserve to be tasted by everyone.
Here’s to a long life full of happiness and joy.
Here’s to us.