Those of you who have been keeping up with the hard trashcans (my articles) know I'm not a very secretive person. I've abused this platform to write about my currently nonexistent libido, my favorite posture for pooping and my post-ironic appreciation of only the gayest Disney fanfiction. But there is one thing that not many people know about me, and rightfully so. It's a secret so vile that I disgust myself whenever I indulge it. It's a secret so absolutely appalling that if Donald Trump said it, it would instantly cost him the election, but for real this time. The way I see it, this info is going to surface at some point whether I want it to or not, and I want you to hear it from me and not some blonde being on the television. So here it goes. At ease, Bobby, you've been rehearsing this. I love candy corn.

Wait, don't go. We can still be friends. I like this thing we have going. I write words, sometimes sentences, you read them, willingly I assume. Please don't let this change anything. I know you're confused. Of all the things I would confess to loving, candy corn? Candy corn goes against everything I stand for, and most of what you sit for. Firstly, it's a phony. Candy corn is neither candy nor corn. I don't know what you would call it besides sinful. I'm an honest person. Trust me. I should put candy corn on blast for it's deceit, but for some reason I'm lenient with every kernel. Secondly, the ingredients make my blood sugar boil. High fructose corn syrup? Food dyes? Past experiences with these ingredients have made my organs riot, so why do I keep coming back every year? Thirdly, sustainability. I don't know how they grow this crop, but it can't be good for the soil. Fourthly and most importantly, the taste. I know candy corn tastes like burning bridges. I know most people eat like three pieces if any. I know I will be consuming much more than that this Hallow's Eve. I keep coming back to this hurtful, disgusting liar every year just to see it hasn't changed one bit, unless it's in disguise as a tiny little pumpkin, but I anticipate my self-destruction every Halloween.

Every year is the same. Despite the universal unappeal of it, someone goes ahead and buys candy corn knowing no one will eat it. It's like the person who takes macaroni salad to the cookout. Stop it. You're just buying leftovers. Anyway, I guess people buy candy corn because it's Halloween and that's just something you do. Little do these people know, they're enabling my addiction. Amongst the bowls of beloved treats such as Starbursts, Milky Ways and Hershey bars, there is somehow always a small, sad bag of shucked candy corn. "Why, hello," I say just quiet enough. "Fancy meeting you here. Have you met my mouth? Wait here, I'll go get him." Knowing damn well the mistake I'm about to make, I plop a piece down the gullet, forgetting to chew, forgetting to breathe. Reunited and it feels so shameful. This should be the end of my interaction with this garbage treat, but my hand reaches for another morsel. "One more," I lie. Before I know it, I'm seduced and grabbing pinchfuls of the good stuff. Thank God it's all for me. Why do the others dislike you so? Oh right, because you're terrible in every aspect. But they don't know you like I do. Once I finish hours later, I usually feel sick. I never cry, but I feel remorse knowing that soon my stomach is going to have to process the annual snafu, and it's going to be incredibly uncomfortable for my entire digestive system. I also feel like I will never sleep again. You don't know what lit is until you see Bobby huffing corn on Hallow's Eve.

Here's the thing though. I can't explain why I do this every year, but I love doing it. The taste isn't what draws me in, I recognize it's disgusting. To this day, I have no answer to my guilty pleasure. Maybe I feel an obligation to show candy corn the love it definitely doesn't deserve. Maybe I feel the need to make sure all of it is consumed before those freaks who only eat the tips show up and waste perfectly good product. Maybe I'm just a fool. Whatever the probably Freudian reason, I will make a promise to myself that next year will be different, and next year I will break that promise. Another Happy Halloween.

Hey I didn't write much this week because I was doing cool-guy stuff (finding out where this crossword puzzle author lives so I can give him one across), so here's something that's not good enough for Twitter. It's a quote from Rihanna, also a secret lover of candy corn:

"Just gonna stand here and watch you chew / but that's alright because you're only eating two.

Just gonna stand there and drink your wine / but that's alright because the candy corn is mine. The candy corn is mine."

And then Eminem is like "I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like," and let's be honest, the whole song applies to candy corn. "Love The Way You Lie" is 100% about me and candy corn. Eminem is a solid candy but a tasteless rapper, with nothing nice to say about his green colleague. Now that this is an article about "Love The Way You Lie," remember how weird it was that Dominic Monaghan was in that music video? He was in The Lord of The Rings movies. And remember Megan Fox was in the music video? She was in movies, too. Was. Happy Holidays from me and Rihanna.