Why You Should Never Let A Boy Come Between You And Your Pie

Boyfriends come and go but your relationship with pecan pie is forever

I LOVE pecan pie, but I stopped eating it for 30 years. Why, you ask?

Funny story.

Well, not funny at the time, but funny now that I look back with my 50-year-old brain.

You see, when I was 15, I was dating a boy. He was my first serious boyfriend and we were inseparable. He and I shared a lot of common interests and one of them was food.

We were dating for about a year and a half and I truly thought I was going to marry him. Until the day after Thanksgiving in 1985.

For purposes of anonymity, I will not call him by his real name. I will call him “pecan pie boy” or PPB for short, which is how my friends know him, as this story is pretty famous amongst my closest circle.

In fact, it was one of my best friends who prompted me to write this story. Last week, we were talking about our Thanksgiving plans and what we were serving for dessert. She has been following me on Medium and said, “You should tell your pecan pie boy story.” With all the distractions of my holiday preparation, I was struggling to figure out what to write this week, and so, I now had inspiration!

Sorry, I digress.

So, how did I go from a pecan pie aficionado to someone who could not even look at the words on a menu for almost 30 years?

It all started when PPB came over to my house the Friday after Thanksgiving. We were hanging out, watching tv and then we decided to have some leftovers for lunch. We enjoyed a nice meal of turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes and stuffing. Then PPB went to the refrigerator to see what we could have for dessert. There were many choices…cheesecake, chocolate cake, pumpkin pie and one lonely slice of pecan pie that I had specifically hidden way towards the back of the fridge behind a container of steamed string beans. I never thought anyone would look there, but I guess I was wrong.

He took everything out and was assessing what he wanted to eat. I told him he could have anything except the pecan pie because that was my favorite and I wanted it. He gave me a look but didn’t say anything.

He took a slice of pumpkin pie and sat down at the kitchen table. I took the piece of pecan pie and sat down beside him. We ate in silence for a few minutes and then he said, “Can I have a bite of the pecan pie?” And, I said, “No.”

Then he said, “If you don’t give me a bite I will walk out of here and never see you again.”

Well, I knew that could not possibly be true because he lived 15 minutes away by car and he didn’t drive yet. His mom had dropped him off and she wasn’t supposed to get him until later that night.

So, I just continued to eat my pie. He looked at me for several seconds and then put down his fork. He kissed me on the forehead and walked out of the house.

I finished my pie.

Then, I went to look for him. I peeked out the front door and there was no sign of him. I checked the backyard, but he was not there either. I put on my shoes and walked down my driveway and peered down the street. Nobody was there.

I started to get a little panicked. Where could he have gone? He didn’t call a taxi because he didn’t use my house phone — he had just up and left. There was no way he could walk home. He lived four towns over and it would take him hours.

To make matters worse, this was 1985 and there were no cell phones and no Life360. I literally had no way of reaching him or tracking where he was.

I called all my friends to see if maybe he went to any of their houses, but, he didn’t. The next few hours were agonizing. I stared at the clock, I stared at the phone. Where could he be?

Finally, at about 8:30 pm, my phone rang and it was him. He told me he walked home and it had taken him three hours to get there. Then, he went on to explain that for the last few months he did not feel the same towards me and realized, he only thought of me “like a sister.” He said that the pecan pie was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He ended things with me and I never heard from him again.

I was devastated and the taste of the pecan pie in my mouth was not helping me feel any better. I knew we hadn’t been getting along as well as we had been at the beginning of our relationship, but I thought we were just becoming comfortable with each other. This was my first true love and my first horrible breakup and I felt sick to my stomach.

Although I knew our problems went way beyond the pecan pie, I kept replaying those final moments at the table over and over again in my head. Maybe, I should have just given him one bite? But it was so delicious…

Well, not only did I lose my boyfriend that afternoon, but I lost my taste for pecan pie as well. From that day on, I couldn’t enjoy my absolute favorite dessert. Any time I saw it in a restaurant, I would get a queasy feeling remembering that awful experience. If someone served it at a party or holiday, I would politely decline and secretly recall that fateful day.

Even as a grown, happily married woman with two children, I still couldn’t eat pecan pie. And it was so sad because I really wanted to!

I missed that gooey, nutty and sweet slice of yummy goodness. Why was I torturing myself?

For years my best friends who knew my “pecan pie boy” story laughed at me. They couldn’t believe that I was still traumatized by this life event that happened so many years ago. Every time we went out to dinner and it was on the dessert menu they begged me to give it another try. But, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Maybe it was my way of punishing myself for being so selfish? Or maybe I felt having pecan pie would destroy other relationships I had with my husband or friends? I mean, if they asked for a bite, would I be willing to give it to them, lol?

My continued boycott of pecan pie was becoming a bit ridiculous and a few years ago my friends finally wore me down. We were out for dinner and the waitress brought out an assorted dessert tray which of course included pecan pie.

My friends insisted I get it and finally put an end to the nonsense. Even my husband agreed. Internally, I struggled.

But, it looked so good…

Suddenly, the words, “I will have the pecan pie,” flew out of my mouth. And, just like that, the waitress cut off a hearty slice and placed it right in front of me. There was silence at the table. Everyone watched me as I raised my fork and slowly and reluctantly broke off a small piece. I brought it to my mouth and gingerly took a bite.

Oh my! I had forgotten how good this actually was!

What have I been thinking all these years? PPB is married and has children (I know because I looked him up on Facebook).

He has moved on and so have I. I am not 15 and I know eating pecan pie won’t make my husband leave me.

Why did I wait this long and deprive myself of such a scrumptious treat? I thank my friends for helping me overcome this huge emotional barrier.

So for the past five years, I have rekindled my love of pecan pie and each time I order it, I do think of PPB but it doesn’t really phase me.

In fact, the photo you see under the title of this story is the pecan pie I served for Thanksgiving this year.

It has been freeing to be able to absolve myself of this ludicrous deprivation. I have conquered my fear of pecan pie and I am proud. I know now with absolute certainty that relationships are not built on pecan pie!

And, besides, pecan pie tastes better than remorse feels.

I am stronger, more reasonable and I no longer shake when I am near a pecan pie. Now, when I am offered a piece, I say loudly, “Yes, please!”

But, I have not gone without learning a valuable lesson. The “yes, please” is always followed by, “Can I have an extra-large slice?”

After all, I want to be prepared in case anyone else wants a bite…