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The Sweetest Dessert

A Once in a Lifetime Treat Reserved for Those Who Deserve it

By Jennifer Vasallo Published 3 years ago 8 min read
The Sweetest Dessert
Photo by Jasmine Waheed on Unsplash

*Trigger Warning: depiction of sexual assault*

Ever since I ended things with Pablo, I’ve been realizing that I miss him so damn much, and for what? He cheated on me with some random Becky that he met at a bougie coffee shop in Miami. This man posted pictures of them together all over his social media pages, calling her his “elementary school bestie” for months, and when I confronted him about their uncomfortably close friendship, he denied on his abuelita’s (grandmother) grave that there was anything between them, but, like any good Latina who struggled with self confidence, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and believed his little cuentos (stories); however, something told me that his stories were off and so my internet sleuthing quest began.

I did not want my gut instincts to be right because we had been in a committed relationship for five years, we were high school sweethearts, and he swore on his abuelita’s grave (something that is incredibly serious in our culture), but the evidence against him was damning and I couldn’t ignore it. So, one day, while he was ‘at the gym’ I realized he left his computer unlocked. Because this was an integrated smart design system, I was able to go through all of his text messages without even having to go through his phone. I found text message after text message of him trash talking me, calling me degrading names, and sending her nudes while promising her that as soon as he sucks me financially dry, he would move in with her and they could start their life together. After reading those texts, I was heartbroken and enraged. It wasn’t so much that I was mad at him because I knew he was being unfaithful, but more so I was mad at myself for believing him and allowing him to sweet talk his way back into my good graces. So, before I could think of going back on my promise of giving him the boot, I threw all of his clothes and personal items down from my third floor apartment balcony, called my best friend Maritza, and begged her to come over. When Maritza got here, we locked the door, moved the heaviest objects we could find to the door and barricaded ourselves inside.

After a few hours, Pablo finally came back from ‘the gym’ and found all of his shit on the floor with a large note taped on my balcony window which read “Hope it was worth it, you cheater”. He called me in a rage, but I wasn’t having it. I blocked his number, raised the music, drank some wine with Maritza, and watched him grab his stuff from the lawn and pack it into his little two seater. That was the end of Pablo for good.

After he was gone, Maritza and I started talking about getting me back out on the dating scene, but I told her “I’m too shy to go to a club or bar, and even if I wasn’t, the nice guys I am looking for aren’t going to be there anyway!”. She tried to hype me up, like any good friend would, but I wasn’t budging, so she suggested that I should download that new dating app, Swarm. I had very mixed feelings about dating apps because I have heard all of my girlfriends’ horror stories, but being the die hard romantic that I am, I figured “hey if my friends have found their forever partners on there lets see if there are any nice guys hiding under the pile of demigorgons.”

I made my account and was scrolling for a bit. As I was scrolling, I thought to myself “most of these guys seem like bad boys trying to pose as nice guys, but I mean, a girl has needs and these bad boys can definitely serve a purpose. No, no, no Dalila, no more bad boys! You promised yourself that you’d find a good guy or no one at all. There will be no compromising.” Three hours of scrolling and talking with Maritza passed by like a Marvel movie, and still nothing. Maritza decided to call it a night and went home.

Once she left, I kept scrolling because let's face it, it’s gratifying when you match with someone. It must have been only ten minutes in when someone caught my eye. “Well, here’s a cutie who looks like he could be the nice type. He is studying art at a local college, has his life mostly together, and seems like long term material.”, I thought to myself. “I’ve always wanted to date an artist, they have better hearts, or did I just read that somewhere? I’m not sure, but I’m going to message him anyway.” I messaged him, and after a little bit of banter, I gave him my number and he called. We talked for a little while and it turned out to be a really pleasing phone call. “Wits and a cute face, he must be a unicorn”, I thought to myself.

The next morning, I called Maritza to tell her the story and she insisted that I send her his pics and the convo. Maritza thought he was cute and seemed like a good match for me. I know I shouldn’t really care, but her opinion about guys has just about always been right, so I was glad that she was on the same page. She didn’t like Pablo and look how that turned out. I think I’m going to ask him out on a date to see how we vibe in person. I called him up and we spoke for over an hour. I mustered up the courage and asked him if he would like to join me for a cheesy taco Tuesday date. He agreed and was very flattered that I was the one to ask him out on a date. He said it was something he had never experienced and really enjoyed the idea of a woman who takes charge and initiative.

Tuesday rolls around and I found myself in a bind. I had to hire a ride share because of all days for my car to take a shit, it had to be today. After what felt like a long ride, I finally made it to Paquito’s Taqueria. He gets out of his car and I thought to myself "Wow, that shirt he’s wearing makes him look like a six course meal”. We go inside, start talking and it’s like he has a book written about me on all the right things to say at the right times. He complimented me and turns up the flirting. I tried to play coy, but this man was handsome in a very Andrew Garfield kind of way, and I couldn’t help myself, so I flirted back. I loved how spicy this date was turning out—it was almost as spicy as the Mexican food on the table. I always had this misconception that nice guys didn’t know how to bring the spice, but boy was I wrong. A few margaritas later, he asked me if he could take me home so that I wouldn’t have to take a ride share home. I agreed because I realized I had one too many margaritas and he made me feel safe, so I figured, why not?

We got in the car and he starts driving. I realized in my mild drunkenness that he was driving a little fast, so I asked him “what’s the rush?” He did not reply, but I shrugged it off. We made it to my apartment and I figured I’d let him walk me up, and end the night with a sweet kiss goodnight. I did not want to invite him in because I was scared that he would get in my pants and never talk to me again, like men are known for doing. He kissed me and asked me if he could come in. I told him he couldn’t, but that we could keep kissing out here in the hallway. He wasn’t taking no for an answer and instead said “I just spent $90 dollars on dinner, you ungrateful bitch”. He started becoming more and more forceful with me. The look on his face changed from soft and approachable to menacing. He pushed me up against the door and shoved his fingers inside of me and violated me.

I began screaming at the top of my lungs, he ran away, and I called the cops to report the incident. When the cops arrived, they saw that I was recovering from a state of drunkenness and did not take my pleas seriously. They asked me what kind of evidence I had of the incident and unfortunately, I was unable to produce anything other than my shaken up tears.

I slept the margaritas off and called Maritza in the morning. I explained to her what had happened and she came over before I could finish my sentence. Maritza arrived at my doorstep and she was fuming. She was upset that the cops did not treat my case with any seriousness and that this man was going to get away with sexual assault.

Maritza begins pacing around the room and says “what about your famous chocolate cake? Text him, tell him that you realized that you were ungrateful for his generosity, and see if he would like to come over for a second date and a home cooked meal.” I was incredibly shaken up and initially did not want to proceed with this plan, but Maritza talked some sense into me and promised that she would stay inside my room for the duration of the date to assure that it does not go awry.

I texted Jorge and wrote what Maritza had advised me to write. He seemed a bit surprised to be hearing from me again after what has happened, but didn’t turn down another chance to get inside of my apartment.

When he arrived, I made sure I was wearing my most 1950’s Susie homemaker dress with red lipstick. I began to make small talk with him. He took this opportunity to make a tongue in cheek apology for his actions the previous night and I assured him that it was nothing to be worried about. After dinner, I asked him to sit down in the living room on the couch and I brought him a slice of my famous Red Rosary Chocolate Cake. As a Catholic, naturally, he was intrigued by the name. I gave him some phony story about how it was a traditional chocolate cake, and that has become somewhat of a family recipe. I told him it was infused with the seeds of a red berry tree that only grows in the tropics, and it was a very complicated recipe. He was impressed with my story and cut a piece from the slice with his fork.

I served him some wine and he put the piece of cake up to his nose and asked “Is this supposed to smell musky?” To which I quickly answered “Yes. The seed of the berries give off a strong, pungent smell, but I promise you, it is as delicious as it looks.” With all the enthusiasm in the world, Jorge ate two slices and said he loved the taste because it reminded him of his childhood.

After a few minutes, Jorge started to say that he felt funny. I seized the moment and told him “I felt funny when you tried to rape me the other night, so it’s only fair that today I make you feel funny. That cake you just ate was actually baked with cat shit and poisonous rosary pea.” He tried to get up from the chair but falls flat on his face.

Maritza hears the commotion, comes from out of the bedroom and says “time to throw away the garbage, baby girl. Revenge will always be the sweetest dessert”.


About the Creator

Jennifer Vasallo

Educator by day, writer by night. Millennial. Lover of literature, films, taking pictures, surrealist art, cafecito, cultura, travel, making memories, and my familia. Join me on this wild ride we call life from my perspective🖖🏼

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