Every morning I swing by the McDonald’s drive thru for an iced coffee. Sure, I prefer Dunkin Donuts, but I’m cheap. I want my large iced coffee with cream, no liquid sugar and 10 Splenda packets. One day, however, my usual McD’s run was different. When ordering, a deep and sexy voice asked the familiar “Can I take your order?”
I pulled up to the window and saw the finest man.
Time to pay and I was too mesmerized to count out my .58 cents correctly. I finally got my order, smiled and pulled away.
This pattern continued for weeks but I did not pursue him. He works at McDonald’s! Plus, he wore “the lockdown” band (aka a wedding ring). Yet one day he surprised me and asked for my number. “Oh hell no,” said the voice in my head. My lips, however, said otherwise.
Soon, Mr. Fries began texting me. It was constant and he often spoke of his wife, saying she was an abusive Crypt Keeper (she is 43 to his 31). She has had strokes, heart attacks and has many other ailments. So I felt bad for my married Romeo, who was clearly in the prime of his life and had suffered for 10 years with a woman who was sucking the life out of him. The cherry on top: she said she didn’t love him. Or so he told me. Was he lying? I looked into his big brown eyes and thought, who would lie about this?
We quickly transitioned from texting to phone calls. I believed all of his sob stories. Like, how two days before his birthday she left him with nothing but a mattress in their new apartment. I pictured him shivering alone, lying on a dirty mattress. And now, he worked at McDonalds.
His poor life! I could be his Knight in Shining Armor! I could take him away from a life of, “Do you want fries with that?”
Convinced he and I were a good idea, I invited him over. When we sat on my couch I lost all control. I was a lion ripping apart a zebra in the wild. Fuck, did I even have a condom? I haven’t had sex in seven months. I went to my bedroom and, like a champion, found one. Damn it, is this thing expired? 2019, YES! I threw it at him and rode him eeagerly, like I was devouring a Happy Meal.
When I came up for air I noticed a strange number kept calling me. It was his wife. Should I pick up? What would I say to this woman? Hello, this is Tabitha. I have heard so much about you. I’m your husband’s relationship coach. Better than his mistress, right? And, how does the guy from McDonalds even get a mistress?
I picked up and soon realized there was his version, her version and the truth. She was definitely sickly but she wasn’t abusing him. She loved him but he was all Suffocation Nation; she couldn’t even go to the bathroom without his shadow. Was it believable? Who knows? All I know was that I was ashamed of myself. All of this for a piece of ass and nothing more.
The conversation ended and I kicked him out of my house. Days later, I went through the drive thru one last time. His voice came on the loud speaker.
“Can I take your order?”
“I would like a Black Iced Coffee, plain black, like my soul,” I replied robotically. I handed him the money, avoiding eye contact. I felt nothing but hurt, shame and a strong urge to punch him. He can keep the fries and work on super sizing his marriage.