Love is like food. You crave it just as much as pizza, eat as much as you would Nutella sandwiches, and once you get a piece, you would be addicted like cake.
I think that's how it started. To be honest, I don't remember much. We were six years old, at a party full of other six year old's, parented by six year old's. It was never about us. It was all about the food, fun, and glory of being able to let snot run down our faces and not be embarrassed.
But, being younger than my mind, I ate without thinking. I ate a lot without thinking. Pizza, applesauce, pie, chocolate cookies, candy bars, spaghetti, bread sticks, chicken, tacos, you named it, I ate it. Which turned out a little on the bad side, since I developed my own personal carrying bag of fat rolls in kindergarten.
At that time we were too young to understand societies way of throwing out the "trash" and keeping those who would do well in life. So, Anna, a soon-to-be beautiful, skinny cheerleader, came up during lunch and asked me, the fat chick, if I would go to her birthday that afternoon.
I remember biting into a piece of Mum's blueberry pie when she flashed those strange pearly teeth at me.
To be completely and utterly honest, I wasn't all that into going to her party. I didn't talk to this girl very much, nor did I ever even share a wave or slice of apple.
Anna saw my reluctance. I don't know why she wanted me to go, but what she said next obviously got my attention.
"C'mon Diana! My mom is making chocolate cake!"
Five hours later, I stood at the snack table. Yes, judge me. An overweight baby girl standing at the table with food is hilarious. All the other kids were playing with foam swords and pretending to be pirates while I stuffed my face with refreshments. Cake wasn't going to be served until later that night, but a few pieces of pie with a cup of Lemon Lime Soda would ease a rumble.
I had just received my third piece of Hawaiian Surprise Pizza when a boy had come up right beside me. He had this long, bowl-like brown hair that swept over his face, making me doubt for a second if he had eyes. The shirt he wore - a green Ninja Turtles tee - matched tan capris and light-up black shoes.
The boy grabbed a plate of food from the table, reaching across to the fountain drinks for a Coke. Then, turning to me with a grin, he asked "So, where do we sit?"
Friendship is like food. You see a pizza you like, grab it, and will always remember it.
Okay, maybe you'll remember it for the first two seconds. After that all you think about is dessert.