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Enchanted Chocolate

by Ariana GonBon 5 months ago in humor · updated 2 months ago

Baking up love


A love potion is just so… archaic. I can’t afford a cauldron anyway. You can make them in a saucepan, but those just don’t hold the same weight as one made in a cauldron.

Also, I don’t want to magic her into loving me. I would rather woo and enchant her by making a cake filled with fresh love-encouraging ingredients.

The main cake ingredient, cacao, will open her heart up to the possibility of me. The finished product will have a rose buttercream filling and topped with lavender icing. My organic roses and lavender wait in their respective vases. Roses are for sensuality, and best when used for romantic emotions. Lavender is an attractor, and fortunately sapphic. I’ll make cherry tea to accompany, another love attractor.

By Heather Ford on Unsplash

I drip the cake batter into a round pan. I did briefly consider a heart-shaped one, but it was too… on the nose. I was trying for subtlety here, even if queerness (once known) is not subtle.

This will be a romcom kind of love. Well, not love yet, but truly the beginning of a romance! She’s a new barista at my favorite coffee shop, the one with all of the local art on the walls. A week ago, I saw her and my heart stopped, then drummed like the snares were about to pop off. She looked like she could kill me and I loved it. I had to say something nice. Could I say that I like how her uniform short sleeves were tight around her arms? She would see that as flirty, not just a nice thing a gal pal would say, right?

“Hi! How can I help you?” She smiled at me and I short circuited. This was only her customer service smile! How would I be able to handle her actual smile? A phone call would have to be first, so I would only get flustered by her voice, not her voice and her physical presence. I’d give her my number on a cardboard drink cozy. Brilliant!

“Uhhhh I’ll have a coconut matcha please.” My matcha order says I’m gay, right? The bi’s love matcha. Does she get signals from my floral tattoos too?

“Oh nice! I love that one,” She responded. Nailed it.

What a weirdly good mood for someone taking orders all morning. I paid and retreated. I grabbed a cardboard cosy from the sugar stand. I finished writing my number when I realized my impending mistake. How would I naturally hand this to her? She was the one handing my drink to me.

DON’T PANIC, I told myself, panicking. You can still make this work! The point is not to look cool, it’s to get her intrigued.

“Coconut matcha!” She yelled out.

By Jason Leung on Unsplash

“Thank you!” as I retrieved it. She was turning away when I slammed down the cardboard cozy, more forcefully than I intended. She startled and looked back with an expression of excuse me?

“Sorry!” I squeaked, and ran for it.

She, for whatever blessed reason, texted me. Thank goddess I’m cute. Texts turned into a phone call, which turned into an invite.

“Do you like sweets?” I asked, hoping for an answer that would let me show off.

“Oh, yes, love them!”

“Okay cool, I’ll make you something. Is it okay if I surprise you?” I was already looking up how to get to that fancy grocery store with organic roses again.

“Sure, I’m down.”

Now, a week after our call, I find myself taking the cake out of its cooling stage in the fridge. The buttercream is whipped and ready. I put it on clockwise to manifest attraction, affection, and dare-I-say love. An unnecessary, but comforting, layer. Food and intention have their own strength.

I’m putting on the lavender garnish when I get a text, “here!” I rush to the door, not afraid to let her see my excitement. She’s wearing a pink button up with rolled-up sleeves and jeans. Goodness.

We beam at each other over the salads I made in an attempt to keep her hungry enough for dessert. Finally, she finished.

“Ready for dessert?”

“Oh, sure!”

I brought the cake out of the fridge, placing it in between us at the table.

“Wow, it’s beautiful!”

I couldn’t wait for her to see the inside. I cut a slice. As I’m transferring it onto her intended plate, she grimaces.

“I’m so sorry, I should have told you, I don’t like chocolate…”


Ariana GonBon

25yo bi Xicana. There's always more to write about, in more interesting ways than white men. Follow me @arte.con.ariana, all tips will go to @openyrpurse, both on Instagram.

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Ariana GonBon
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