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I caught back up with an old friend at a party last Saturday night. We hadn’t seen each other for a couple of years. He was just exactly the same–hadn’t changed a bit–and I had forgotten how much I used to enjoy his company.

It was all I could do not to take him home with me on Saturday, but I have seen him several times this week. But as much fun as we’re having with this little fling, I know it is too unhealthy for me. I can’t let this last.

That friend: My obsession with chocolate chip cookies.

On Saturday, you would have thought I was in love. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the cookies. Where are they now? How many are left? Shall I take another one now, or would that be too clingy, too possessive? How long can I hold out? How many more will I get before it’s time to go home? Shall I sit near them, or play hard-to-get?

And these were just ordinary grocery store cookies, in a clear plastic clam-shell package with a grocery store label. My passion is not about quality. These cookies and their surrogates are everywhere, never more than five minutes from my longing lips.

My toxic lover is not the cookies themselves. My toxic lover is the obsession. I am captivated by his charm–the charm of the obsession. He is delicious. He is dangerous. He is not good for me. He is not a friend I can indulge.

I move through the world moment by moment, one hour at a time, hoping for distractions, in suspense about my willpower. Occasionally, I feel relief when I notice I can live without this lover. But then I never know when my head will turn again, and I will give in to the seduction.

Our reunion on Saturday was ecstatic. Underbaked, crumbless, and doughy, bound by margarine and some mystery oils for that soft-cookie feeling. Textured by grains of brown and white sugar and the intermittent smoothness of a melty chocolate chip, balanced by the barely salty flavor of the batter. My teeth feel the sugars. My tongue tastes chocolate, then dough, then chocolate. Each ingredient melts in my mouth a different way: the cookie quickly back to dough, then batter; the sugars into nectar; all bathed by melted chocolate. I wish I could simply swallow and be satisfied, but every bite makes me crave the next.

He might be the most magnetic seducer I have known. We have gotten together several times this week, over coffee cake, chewy granola bars, and banana bread pudding at the OK Café. I can’t imagine saying goodbye. Is life really worth living without him?

In my heart, I know I have to be the strong one. I have to say “No, this just isn’t right for me. It’s not what I want. It’s not healthy. I don’t see a long-term relationship here.”

And here’s the kicker: “When I’m around you, I become a different person–a person I don’t like.” Come to think of it, I know he’s just using me. He’s just having fun. He doesn’t want anything serious. Why am I wasting my time?

I know why–it’s my favorite mistake, so I keep going back (watch this and think about obsessing for chocolate chip cookies; lyrics here).

Once in a while, my body orders food, as if it is reading some cosmic menu. Usually, it orders chocolate chip cookies. But yesterday it ordered tofu.

Tofu?!

I did make a tofu and veggie stir-fry on Tuesday, and then ate the leftovers on Wednesday for lunch. By Thursday morning, I was craving a tofu scramble for breakfast.

This doesn’t feel like the corn cravings I blogged about recently, and it doesn’t feel like the usual chocolate chip cookie tantrum I get when I’m stressed. So I went with it. I went out to breakfast and got the scramble. Then I had dinner at Whole Foods’s’ Hot Bar and got me some more tofu.

I have this theory ab out food memory, which is the flip-side of my theory of food forgetfulness. When my body likes and needs a food, my food brain takes note. It remembers that food and craves it. Sometimes, my food brain is a little child, and it remembers chocolate chip cookies or corn tortilla chips. Other times, my food brain acts like a grown-up and it gives me a craving for tofu, salmon, or grilled asparagus. Mmmm.

So I’m on board with tofu for as long as the craving lasts. I might even have more today, making today Tofu Day 4. I won’t try to discipline the food brain when it is behaving so well.

I just read a weight loss book that I was hoping to like, but didn’t. No use ragging on it by mentioning the title–in fact, you might run across it and like it.

It isn’t a how-to book; it’s a how-it-feels story, by a person who blogged her weight loss (a little like this blog, only with attitude). I really wanted a happy ending. As a matter of fact, I wanted an ending. I was disappointed.

Then I caught up on her blog today. Her life has just gone right along without the happy ending I hoped for. She even gained her weight back.

You mean, dear Successful Book Author: this isn’t a fairy tale? Dang.

But seriously folks, my naivete surprises me. I read this book looking for something impractical–a happy fairy tale, happily-ever-after ending. What was I thinking?

What disturbs me is that if I was looking for that ending in this book, then I am looking for that ending for myself. I should know better.

Will losing twelve more pounds, and achieving Lifetime status in Weight Watchers, really make all my dreams come true?