Two Spoons

by Scary Mommy
Originally Published: 

Remember back in the days when you and your spouse were merely dating and sharing a dessert was the most romantic way to end a meal? You’d settle on a single dessert along with two spoons, to savor, together. Feet would intertwine under the table and lips would sensuously lick chocolate off of silver. You’d gingerly take a bite, careful not to take too much, in between deep conversation. The last bite would always remain on the plate, because it seemed rude to take the last one and you were each too considerate to dream of such a thing. It was delicious and satisfying and you just couldn’t get enough of it. The dessert and the company.

And, then you got married. And, though romance isn’t entirely dead in marriage, it most definitely isn’t found on a plate of molten chocolate cake.

Or, at least in my marriage it’s not.

When Jeff and I split a dessert these days, it’s more of a race to the finish line than an enjoyable indulgence. We may as well have our hands tied behind our backs and be head butting each other in order to be titled the winner. Most times, I can barely even taste the food I’m inhaling, I’m just shoveling in it my face fast enough to ensure that he doesn’t eat it all before I do. Our dueling utensils fight for the biggest bite; we’re merely one step away from spitting on the plate to claim it as our own.

If it were up to me, I would simply ask for two plates and cut the dessert in half from the beginning, you know, like we would do if we split a main course of fish or chicken. That would make sense, right? It would be equitable and civilized and so much more enjoyable. But, dessert is supposed to be shared for some bizarre reason, clearly the brainchild of a still smitten single person.

We become barbarians, forgetting that a few minutes ago when we placed the order, we were too full to each get our own and only wanted a bite. And, we vow not to share again next time, because neither saving five bucks nor a few hundred calories is worth seeing this side of each other.

Until the next time we go out for dinner, and we do it all over again.

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