Chocolate on a first date

He asked me out because he saw me eating chocolate while sitting on the low wall. The others were smoking, spitting, shouting. I just sat there looking prim, at times sucking on a chocolate bar and then taking a big bite to fill my mouth.

He liked I was not too fussed about which bar I would get from the machine next. But never the same in a row, I made sure of that. Always a different one, then back to the first one once they had all been enjoyed over breaks on the low wall.

He thought it was a sign of intelligence remembering the order of the chocolate bars and the routine that order generated. One day I saw him watch me suck and then I stopped and pushed the rest of it in my mouth on one push, closed it shut and chewed it quickly to sizes I could swallow.

That afternoon, he asked me out. He took me to the place with the chocolate fountain and thought I’d like it We both did not have that much money to spare. I would rather have sat on a bench sharing the huge bag of mini chocolate bars he had given me as a present for our first date.

For my birthday, he ordered a year’s supply of chocolate spread. I had to store it under my bed but saved me cleaning under there for a long while. He shaved his body all over so that I could spread the chocolate all over him and lick it off. The last bits of chocolate moved to my body in the heated embraces we shared, drunk on the fumes of melting chocolate and eternal sunshine in our hearts and on our smiles. Then we showered each other clean. And went back to our every day, boring, expected but not much choice.

Eventually our chocolate rituals became expected and boring. He arrived got undressed, often forgot to hug, or kiss just a quick hi, how is your day. Not really caring about an answer so I ended up not responding anymore. The niceties had been left behind with chocolate on his mind. I obliged as it more and more turned into homework. You don’t fancy it so much then not at all, but you just do it. Partly because there was sex once or twice along the line too. But it became so predictable that I saved my orgasms for later, on my own. Eventually I told him I wanted to try something new.

Without props, the way we had never done it. The way people used to do it before chocolate had been invented. He did not fancy me so much for him in the end it was all about chocolate and what it could get out of it. As the shaving helped his swimming performances too, it all workout well for him. Why change something that works for both. Not even noticing that it had not worked for me in a while.

I tried to tell him just the once, please. No chocolate, just us. He did not see it and told me he did not like chocolate very much in fact, but he envied my special relationship with it. In fact, I concluded that it had never been about me and spending time with me. It was about understanding something he could not relate to and spoil it for me in the end.

We split up and I donated a half year’s supply of chocolate spread to the soup kitchen. I was done eating chocolate for now. Chocolate lost its mojo after that adventure. I have forgotten his name but remember Peter, Peter Chocolate spread forever.