Shortly after I got married in February 1998, my lovely wife and I treated ourselves to a night out on the town that included dinner and a movie.

That was the night Rachel discovered the other love of my life.

Blue Bell ice cream.

We both decided we were too full to attempt dessert after our meal, but a nice waitress offered to put a scoop of Blue Bell homemade vanilla ice cream on top of a piece of apple pie and bring it to my table if I asked nicely.

In the past, that sort of talk would have prompted a proposal of marriage from me, but since the ink wasn’t even dry on my recent marriage license, I simply promised to over-tip the angel of ice cream if she broke all previous delivery records.

Rachel, who had just heard me proclaim I was too full to eat another bite, was obviously confused, so I explained one of my core beliefs to her.

“Never pass up the opportunity to eat Blue Bell, even if you don’t want it right then,” I said. “One day you might really want some, and if it’s not available you will remember the time you shunned Blue Bell and it will creep into your dreams at night and haunt you.”

My point was driven home 17 years later when Blue Bell recalled all of its products because of a multi-state outbreak of Listeria that was traced back to some of its plants. The company eventually halted production in all of its facilities, and we were without Blue Bell for nearly eight months.

I kept a diary on Facebook during the great Blue Bell Famine of 2015.

Looking back, I see that I compared the absence of Blue Bell to the pain I felt the time I ran a screwdriver all the way through my hand trying to assemble a bookshelf.

I also offered to trade an internal organ for a half gallon of Blue Bell, noting I had two kidneys and no Blue Bell. I’m not proud of that, and I’m glad no one took me up on it, but I was desperate.

Friends began to avoid me after I snapped at several of them for suggesting I simply try another brand of ice cream.

Sue me, but I’m loyal. If I love you, I love you for life — a trait I share with gibbon apes, wolves, termites, coyotes, barn owls, beavers, bald eagles, French angel fish, pigeons, red-tailed hawks and black vultures.

I looked that up. Evidently, with no Blue Bell in the house, I had some free time at my disposal.

My son questioned my sanity, asking why I would eat something that might be dangerous.

I reminded him I used to eat hamburger meat that was thawed on a kitchen counter all day long, drank from water hoses and didn’t even know vehicles had seatbelts until I was 19 and someone passed a law saying you had to wear one.

In other words, I was tougher than a crow bar and almost as smart.

This trip down memory lane was prompted Thursday when the good folks at Blue Bell began stocking shelves with their new flavor – Dr Pepper Float.

The company says the new flavor is a combination of vanilla ice cream swirled together with Dr Pepper-flavored sherbet, which sounds like a match made in heaven. Or Texas.

I’m sure my heart doctor won’t be happy to hear I plan to sample a large portion of the new Blue Bell flavor this weekend, but he probably won’t be surprised either.

When the top part of my heart decided to quit communicating with the bottom part back in August and the doctor installed a pacemaker, he urged me to watch my diet.

The first question I asked was if a little Blue Bell every now and then would be a problem, and he said it would be OK — but only in moderation.

Since I couldn’t find “Moderation” on any map, that’s what I call my living room now.