I’ll confess here and now. I have an addiction. It has come and gone through the years. It began at a shockingly young and innocent age, fed by a pusher named Carlos. I was too young.
I’ve moved from periods of control into others of rampant need and reckless desire. Lately, it has almost taken over my life. This addiction has been compounded through the years by access to pictures I see but know I should avoid. Yet, when they appear on my phone, I’m unable to turn away.
My wife is aware and worried. Even though she knows, I still find myself hiding, then when I’m sure she’s not watching, I pull out my phone, go to a certain page and pull up the pictures that send me into uncontrollable urges.
Yes, it’s embarrassing. She doesn’t approve but she’s learned that trying to force me to stop only intensifies my desire for more. The harder I try to end this nightmare, the more my addiction seems to dig its vicious claws into my soul.
I’ve successfully hidden this from my kids, but to finally come clean and get my life back in control, I’m afraid my darkest secret must be told.
I’m addicted to BPTS.
It isn’t listed as a narcotic nor controlled substance but should be. There are no support groups that I can find that will help me throw this vicious monkey from my back. I’m exploring how to adopt and use the traditional “twelve-step” programs to save myself before irreversible damage finally ruins my life. It begins with admitting who I am and what demon has seized control over me. So please don’t think less of me ... don’t judge me ... but ...
My name is Gary. I’m addicted to BPTS ... Breaded Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches.
There. I said it and I can’t take it back. My addiction was originally fed by a man named Carlos, masquerading as a restauranteur, but has boiled over, largely due to a Facebook page titled “Pursuing Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches.” It has taken over my life. The salacious and revealing pictures of the bare, golden brown breading, wrapped around a large and expansive but tender and succulent piece of pork, seductively laid out on the soft bottom of a bun with the top shamelessly removed. Often the only thing covering this salacious piece of flesh is a single dill pickle slice, perfectly placed to only tantalize your taste buds and drive your addiction into near animalistic desires. No, this page isn’t a support group but a meeting point where others who share my addiction gather to share pictures, talk about the places they go to feed their desires and feed the monster that has taken over their life. We, are all who gather there, addicted to BPTS.
It’s not her fault, but it didn’t help that I married an Iowa girl. The Hawk Eye state takes their pork production seriously and they’ve adopted the unofficial slogan, “We sell no swine before it’s time.” Yes, Iowa is the Epicenter and pork pusher to the world.
As I scan this Facebook page, I learn that this deadly addiction is spreading worldwide but most of the pusher sites, masquerading as restaurants are in the Midwest. My wife, Arlene is from Waterloo, Iowa. When we plan our trips back to her hometown it always includes a trip to Newton’s, a former Jewelry store, turned pusher of my addiction. Apparently, the profits of pushing pork eclipse the money to be made selling diamonds and gold. But not just there ... wherever you are, from this Facebook offering, you’ll find someone, somewhere, in someplace, willing to service your needs.
I’m reaching out for help. I’ve tried blocking the page from my phone, but to do so, it takes a real desire to stop. I know I should. My brain says, “Stop,” but my body trembles and I break out in perspiration at the thought of never tasting a BPTS again. I know I’m not alone, but that realization only tries to tell me, “It’s okay. Keep looking at these pictures. Keep eating. Others are doing it. Why not me?”
Please stop me before I eat again.
My name is Gary. I’m addicted to BPTS.
— Gary W. Moore is a freelance columnist, speaker and author of three books including the award-winning, critically acclaimed, “Playing with the Enemy.” Follow Gary on Twitter @GaryWMoore721 and at www.garywmoore.com.