I am having an affair. An all-consuming, burning, satisfying affair.
Lately, things have been a little overwhelming. My life is good. Very good. But recently there have been a few added pressures. I don’t seem to have the tools to break the pressures down, examine them, and find mechanisms to cope with them. And so, I have gone the substitutionary route.
It could be argued that the root cause of the maladies now raining down on me are, in some ways, connected to my neglect of certain details, or my lack of attention to needful things both in the distant and recent past. But I elect not to peer too closely. Instead of introspection, I choose denial and replacement—two powerful tools that are readily available and oh, so easy to use.
Banishing all thoughts of responsibilities and problems, I opt instead to close my eyes and give in to the slow, understated seduction of chocolate.
Chocolate has always been a temptation to me. It has never been so alluring as it is now. I see it everywhere I go. I am distracted by thoughts of it. In its sleek, suggestive packaging, it sees me and beckons to me. It knows what I need. What flavors, what variations, what fun little tricks make me thrill with delight.
We have shared moments before. Those special moments are forever burned on my memory. I crave more. I need more. I am desperate for more. Feeling besieged, unappreciated and uncared for, all I can think to deliver me from my confinement is my dark, clandestine friend, Chocolate.
When will we be together again? How long do I have to wait? Where can we secretly meet--just the two of us--nobody to judge us or even know?
Chocolate and I are at last alone together late at night, long after the rest of the household has gone to bed. The lights low, the TV turned up just enough to cover the sound of our passion, I quietly--slowly--disrobe Chocolate. I take pleasure in the first peek at its dusky body. Its tantalizing scent makes my breath come harder and faster. Its wrapper drops to the floor and there is no one else in the world but Chocolate and me. The first taste melts over my tongue, sending a shiver down my spine. It is as good as it has ever been. Better.
Temporarily I have forgotten whatever problems were keeping me up this late in the first place. I abandon myself to the enticing charms of my paramour. Nothing else exists. I know only the guilty pleasure of our tryst.
It will catch up with me. I will be found out and there will be consequences. This I know. But for one moment—one decadent moment—I care not. I am blissful.