Dear Pizza,

It’s me, your old boyfriend Dan Gregor. I hope this letter finds you well.

I know it has been a long time since we last spoke. I’m sure I hurt you when I left so unexpectedly. I was experimenting with some new fad diet that told me you were bad for me. It told me that all the fun times and carbs we had were unhealthy and destructive. It told me I should delete you from my phonebook and never try to see you again.

I know now this was a mistake. Can you ever forgive me?

In the months since I last saw you, I’ve learned a lot about myself… about us. I know that I am a better person with you in my life. I know that all the drinking and partying and going out late means nothing if I can’t end my night with you pressed against my lips. I thought I wanted to be someone different, someone “physically fit”. But after all those empty flings with salads and lean white meats I realized those pretty calories are really just empty calories. Meaningless side dishes in my life.

You’re so special to me. You were my first true love. I remember cutting high school to sneak in a quick takeout session with you. I remember those broke, lonely college winters where you would nourish me once, twice, even three times a day. Remember when I’d get money from my parents for books and I’d just spend it all on you instead? It just made sense. I guess your first true love always does.

But then we grow up and things get complicated. We get jobs. We get new friends. We get slower metabolisms. It’s confusing to say the least.

I was walking down the street the other day, rain pouring down my back, I was feeling pretty sad, and like an old love letter you find pressed between the pages of a book, I looked up and saw your place, John’s Pizzeria. Nice. Worn in and comfortable. Simple yet thoughtful. A brick oven warming every nook. It was so you.

I couldn’t help myself. I HAD to see you! It was an off-hour so I thought maybe you wouldn’t be busy, but you made me wait to order for a really long time. But, I deserved that. I was getting ready to give up on the whole endeavor and just go slut it up down the street with some whore of a salmon. And then you walked in…

Crispy, thin and slightly blackened on the bottom, but still chewy and soft to the bite. An elegant and restrained amount of gooey, steaming cheese. And those crispy splashes of bubbled over mozzarella penetrating the edges of your outer crust! You’re so unpredictable!

And your sauce! Your sweet, sweet fresh tomato sauce. I taste the basil! I taste the garlic!

GOD I MISSED YOU.

I eat until I can’t fit another bite, I clean my face and run out the door before we can even talk about what we’ve done.

I’m writing this letter to let you know that I still love you and if you’ll take me back I won’t ever run out on you again.

Just say yes and I will open up the leftovers in my fridge right now.

Forever and always,

-Your cheesy boy.

JOHN’S PIZZERIA: 278 Bleecker St. between Morton & Jones st., near 6th ave.