Chirky

(This is a series in Weird Things About Me. Part One is here. Part Two is here. Part Three is here.)

When I was in college, I met a guy who didn't drink soda for ten years.
[Insert blank stare here.] He told me he did it just to see if he could.
[Insert blank stare here.] And, I don't know if he meant his news to do this, but it impressed me. So I decided: hey! I should do that! Except not with sodas, because that would be too easy. (For me, anyway. I wasn't that addicted to them in the first place.) Instead, I decided to give up another thing. Something that I craved. Something that I lusted after. Something that was sweet and creamy and sinfully delicious.

I gave up chocolate.

I know, okay? I know. What was I thinking, giving up chocolate? But I did, and I did it hardcore: no chocolates, no cookies, no brownies, no mousse, no hot cocoa beverages, no Tootsie Rolls even. I didn't let one iota of cocoa filter through my system. I had originally set out to hold my chocolate fast for five years - yes! Five years! - which, for a chocoholic like me, seemed like an eeettteerrrnnniiitttyyyyyy. Two years had passed and I had lost thirty pounds (I loved chocolate that much! Thirty pounds worth! It is a sickness, I tell you.) and it's not that I didn't eat dessert (because believe me: I eat plenty of desserts - sorbets and tarts and my new favorite, key lime pie). It's just that I didn't even crave chocolate. I wasn't even tempted by it.

What I was taunted by, though, was Roger. We were dating at the time, and he simply couldn't believe that I wasn't interested in chocolate. This is because Roger is a closet chocolate fanatic. He wants it always, at all times, and often I will find Roger peeking into our cupboards, hoping to discover that I've purchased him something during my latest trip to the grocery store. And at this point in our relationship, I think it's okay for me to admit that Roger loves chocolate even more than I do. It's his vice. (Though I think it would be fair to admit that he prefers the high-quality stuff -- think milk chocolate Lindt Lindors rather than Hershey's Kisses -- and I can't say that I blame him. It's like comparing Ruth's Chris Steakhouse to Golden Corral.)

So exactly two-and-one-half years into my chocolate fast, I gave Roger a gift: the gift of chocolate. We had dinner at the Restaurant at Pisgah Inn, and were seated in front of an expansive window, high on a mountainside overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains. And as the sun set into the slate-grey hills, Roger and I shared Chocolate Silk Pie. It was perfect, both the moment and the dessert, and I couldn't imagine a better way to break my chocolate fast.

Honestly, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't believe that I could go on for the next two-and-a-half years, or for the next twenty years, without eating chocolate. I knew that it would be easy for me. But sharing something with Roger that he loved so much? Well, that made the decision even sweeter, and even easier.