My name is Bryan and I’m a nerdaholic. That’s right, these are the confessions of a nerd-lover, nay, a nerd addict. Being a nerd myself it’s easy to see why I have a certain affinity for them. They are cute little guys after all, so sweet and tangy. Willy Wonka really knew what he was doing when he invented these fellas. Well, I’ve heard that only absolute honesty and truthful confessions can allow you to break an addiction, and the first step is recognizing that you have a problem, so let me start from the beginning.
When I was in 4th grade I lived on Subic Naval Air Station in the Philippines. If any of you have lived overseas you may be able to relate to the fact that spiffy American cultural fads are oftentimes a little slower in coming around than they are Stateside. So it was that one day at school I heard rumors about this new candy that was out called Nerds. They were supposedly the greatest thing ever and they could supposedly only be bought at this one vending machine at the school. Not wanting to be left out I filched a couple of quarters from my Dad’s dresser and hit the vending machine first thing the next day. Sadly however, the rumors created a drastic Nerd shortage complete with a black market and kids selling boxes for exhorbitant rates out of their backpacks. Even at that young age I was too frugal to spend more than the asking retail price for anything, so I patiently bided my time all the while dreaming of the wonders of the succulent new candy craze. As the days passed my expectation continued to grow until finally, one morning, I happened upon a new shipment in the vending machine. I bought a box, tasted a few, and wasn’t disappointed. They were all I had hoped for. I proudly displayed my still full Nerd box that day at school and became somewhat of a celebrity amongst my circle of friends. I had many offers for that box, but despite all manner of begging and cajoling I refused to give in. I ate that entire box throughout the day, being careful not to let a single Nerd fall to the ground.
As the months and years passed I continued to enjoy Nerds, but my initial frenzy faded to the occassional box here and there. My passion was briefly reignited by the Nerd rope, but didn’t last … until a couple of months ago when my lovely wife bought me a few boxes for Christmas. Little did she know that a Nerd loving beast was being awakened from a deep slumber thanks to her otherwise innocent gift. It didn’t take long for her to realize that something was awry. A couple of days after Christmas, I had opened one of the giant boxes of Nerds and she asked for a handful. I hesitated, then finally gave her a few. She looked at me a little strange, I’m usually not a hoarder, and I explained, Gollum-like, that they were my Nerds.
A few days later, Lianne and I slept in since we had stayed up late with my brother and sister-in-law. The kids woke up at 7am as usual, and we just sent them away to watch TV while we slept. By the time I got up the damage had been done. One of my boxes of Nerds, which had been left under the Christmas tree, had been desecrated by the animals whom I call my children. I fumed and scolded, and quickly collected the remaining boxes and put them in a high place thinking of the campers who have to hang their food in the high branches to protect it from bears and racoons. The next morning I again found an eviscerated box of Nerds, this time on the dining room table. I had left an open box out the night before, and once again the roaming wildlings had somehow discovered it and made quick work of it. I was prepared to levy some capital punishment, but Lianne somehow convinced me that it was my fault because I had left it out. The next day, however, was her fault. It was the middle of the morning when I walked into our front room and saw a couple of dozen precious nerds splayed across the couch. How could this be? The boxes were safely ensconced in my bedroom. I began an investigation and under bright lights, blaring music, and some cutting edge psychological techniques, my wife finally confessed that she had put an open box in the pantry thinking that it would be safe there. Alas, she underestimated the cleverness of our foes, and we found a chair pulled up to the pantry and the pantry doors open wide. My fury was nearly incontainable, but it was replaced by grief and a profound sense of loss. I determined then and there that I would replace the Nerds which had been taken from me at all costs.
So it was a few weeks later that I found myself at Sam’s club and the revelation struck me like a thunderbolt. “If there are Nerds here I will never want again!” I began a frenzied search and wonder of wonders found a package of 30 boxes! Slavering, I quickly grabbed them and declared that 24 of the boxes were mine, in recompense for the ones which were stolen from me, and the other 6 could be split amongst the rest of the family. I was supremely satisfied with my resolution, but it quickly became untenable. The entire family knew where my Nerds were and they were surreptitiously taking boxes while I was at work, striving hard to provide for them. One evening I took a couple of boxes out, put them in the pantry for the wife and kids, and put the remaining boxes in my backpack to take to work where they would be safe. Lianne was incredulous. She said I was being selfish and ridiculous. I told her that she didn’t understand what I had been through, and I justified my actions by claiming that 24 boxes was no less than I deserved. Even then I didn’t realize that I had a problem.
That realization came a couple of weeks later. I had begun to ration my Nerds, deciding that 1/3rd of a box per day, which is 60 calories of pure sugar, was adequate for my needs. One of my co-workers saw me open my desk drawer at work and grab a box. He made a comment about how much he enjoys Nerds, and out of some insane desire for peer acceptance, I offered him a box. I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth, and indeed, they came back to haunt me. Just today I was again munching on some Nerds when the same co-worker happened by my cube. He saw the box, started up some idle chit-chat as a pretense, and then opened my drawer, and grabbed a box of Nerds as he said, “May I?” I was in a state of shock. It is true that I had opened the door for such behavior by offering him a box once before, but does that give him the right to take a box from me without my consent? Unbelievable. It seemed as though no place was safe from the marauding bands of Nerd snatchers. I resolved then and there to keep my drawer locked at all times to prevent such dastardly behavior in the future. I also began to see the depth of my plight. I was firmly in the grasp of a serious Nerd addiction.
So now I sit here, confessing all, in the hopes that someone out there can relate to my struggle. I’ve always said that without challenges in life there would be no opportunity for self improvement. I guess I will tackle this as one such opportunity and will hopefully come out as a better man on the other side.