I DON'T Share Chocolate!

I DON’T Share Chocolate!

“Can I have some?” This pathetic request came from my husband whenever he caught me eating chocolate. I always hesitated a moment, then reluctantly gave in, rolling my eyes as I forked over a piece or two. It’s not that I’m a greedy person. I can be quite giving and generous - honest. However, this is CHOCOLATE that we’re talking about. It’s not potato chips or Cheez-its for crying out loud, but CHOCOLATE! You see, I consider chocolate my personal reward for doing the grocery shopping, which is a chore that my husband absolutely hates. I’m the one who: makes the list, roams the aisles of the supermarket, loads the car, unpacks it, and then puts everything away. Yes, I deserve it.

Besides, after fourteen years of marriage, you would think he would know by now, chocolate is my first love. I’ve known the joy of chocolate long before I knew him. Whether it’s filled with almonds, raisins, peanuts, crispies, crunchies, or plain, chocolate has always been there for me. Through good times and bad, I could always count on the sweet, creamy goodness to help me forget my problems, if only while eating it. I find escape with the initial crinkling of the paper as I unwrapped it, to the aroma of its enticing chocolate scent, to the creamy texture as it melted in my mouth. Chocolate and I are friends from way back. I keep it to myself - for myself. I simply DON'T share chocolate!

To avoid further chocolate-related tension with my husband, something had to be done. I realized I needed to be sneaky if I wanted to have chocolate to myself. I had no choice but to go underground with my chocolate eating. I pondered several methods to outsmart him.

First, I decided to have a secret stash of chocolate. I would horde it. I squirreled it away in various places throughout my home. That plan didn’t work. No matter where I hid it, he found it. And, believe me, I’ve hidden it just about everywhere. Hiding places included: under the bed, in closets, cupboards, drawers and even in the bathroom. Each time he was able to find, and plunder it. For a while I thought he had the tracking abilities of a blood hound. Countless times I went to one of my hiding places only to find a measly two or three pieces of candy left at the bottom of the bag. Two or three pieces! Give me a break. That’s just a tease. It’s not a treat if you only have two or three pieces to eat. I knew the location had been compromised, and it was time to find a new one. Something else had to be done!

Next, I began buying chocolate he disliked. I thought, wrongly, I would have it all to myself. But that didn’t work either, since he ate it anyway. "Some chocolate is better than no chocolate," he would say. A sentiment I could agree with.

In desperation, I tried eating it in the middle of the night, while he was asleep. But, the blood hound senses kicked-in again, and with the first crinkle of the wrapper, he was wide awake with his hand open.

Finally, I came up with the idea of buying “bait” chocolate. This would be “alternate” chocolate that I would hide where I knew he would find it. (“Alternate” chocolate being seasonal candy, such as Santas, Halloween candy, Easter bunnies, or chocolate that I previously craved, but was now over it.) This would be his chocolate.

Meanwhile, Phase II of my evil plot involved keeping the “good” chocolate hidden in another spot - my underwear drawer. This was THE one spot he wouldn’t dare look in, even if he suspected it was there. As every man knows, a woman’s underwear drawer is “off limits”. He was no different. Finally, my chocolate would be safe.

To this day, my husband knows “good” chocolate is hidden somewhere in our home. But, as to where it is, he can only guess. One day I caught him looking wistfully at the candywrappers I had thrown away. I smirked knowing I finally outsmarted him.

As for me, I peacefully enjoy my stash of chocolate - all by myself. I’m wondering - when do you think it will finally dawn on him to go to the grocery store to buy his own chocolate?