Love Story: Oatly Edition
Dear Oatly Oat Drink™,
I sit here typing with one hand which means my words are coming out ever so slowly — but with my free hand, I am able to shake another one of your delicious cartons as I prepare to indulge my senses. I burn, I pine, I perish… all for you.
Long were the nights when my days once revolved around you. Your light blue hue was the only thing giving me light on the dreary fall days when I was forced to microwave my food, watching sadly through the revolving door of the contraption as I waited anxiously for the timer to go down. What else could bring me joy? Certainly not anything but you and HUDS New England Clam Chowder!
We have had so many good times together, from the time I first tried you after almost getting indoctrinated into a vegan cult by my friends from the nerd school (Author’s note: this is MIT) and wondered how anyone could possibly choose you over Cow’s Milk™. However, I was soon addicted and our love affair became intoxicating. I would begin to read your nutrition facts instead of my history reading. Who knew low erucic acid rapeseed oil could taste so good when combined with water and oats? I even woke up early for breakfast just to get more of you, and I have a 9 a.m. Every. Single. Day.
Unfortunately, all is fair in love and war, and in October, I forsake you. Instead of drinking you, my love, and collecting my only serotonin for the day, I began to collect you for a man I unsuccessfully simped for. I probably should have known something was up when he asked me to bring you. To see the look on his face as I walked through his door, handing him a bag of eight of you, painstakingly received from the dining hall over the course of about a week, realizing that my worst fear had come true was truly frightening. I had let a man get between our relationship. I knew right then and there that while I could never make another man as happy as I did him by handing over a bag full of Oatly Oat Drink™, I would make myself infinitely more happy by keeping you to myself.
This semester, I can finally tell you that I know what loss is, since I do not see you every day. I make the dreary walk to Annenberg, hoping in my heart of hearts that I might see you. Most days, you never appear. Some days, I scrounge for a singular bottle of Oatly Chocolate Oat Drink™, knowing that there is a God above whenever it happens. Last week, I saw a whole box of you. When I asked for some more, the amazing HUDS worker gave me four whole cartons of you, bless that man. In that moment, I knew I was loved and special. All thanks to you. And so, I give you all my love, and I miss you until the moment I see you again.
Yours forever and always,
Matylda A. Urbaniak