I have some ultra-nice chocolates :) They're like silk, pure lovely silk only, y'know with more sugar
Now I normally have a box around, ish. Usually a big box a month or a couple of small ones. There's usually one in the house or I can expect one to show up (because while I eat them, I never buy them). I can't eat them all at once because sweet things quickly make me ill – except cake and biscuits for some reason. Anyway, chocolates. I love chocolates. Not chocolate, you understand. I've never really liked big bars of chocolate, they've always struck me as dull (unless it's white chocolate. White chocolate is made by the gods themselves) and high cocoa solid chocolate is pretty vile.
But chocolates? Filled with nuts and ganache and praline and liqueurs? Little nuggets of tasty tasty art, oh yes. I likes them I does.
Of course, for Beloved & I they're a little more. Back in the days of yore when my family was assimilating the idea that not only was their eldest son gay but also WASN'T going to live the rest of his life both alone and sexless. This was something of a stumbling block for them since, being denied their first 2 choices (straight son or gay son who'd pretend to be straight, find a nice girl and live in lovely lovely denial) the next 2 were perpetual virgin gay son, or gay son who had the decency to keep all that sexing as hidden as possible so we could all live in happy denial-land. Instead they got this gay son with a boyfriend who was hanging around and acting all part of his life and everything – totally not on the list at all!
Anyway, back in this tricksy tricksy time, Beloved bought me chocolates. Yummy yummy assortment of goey loveliness.
And family did declare “why have you bought him them? He doesn't like chocolate. You should have gone for toffee.” (see, silly boy, presuming to know him. You knoooow nothing, we shall be smug at you)
And he questioned “but I think he likes these. I'm pretty sure.” (what the hell muppets, are we even talking about the same person or are you all on crack or something?)
Of course I love these chocolates and there was much smugness from Beloved. He Officially Knew Me Better. This was a total territory moment. No, really, he still refers back to this moment. It is the epic “mine” moment when he believes he firmly asserted his boyfriendhood to my family.
So, I have chocolates. I never have to buy them, Beloved often provides them and I find them lurking around for me to find in the fridge or cupboard, it is one of the constants that makes life a little better. I'm still not sure if they are some kind of possessive scent marking or branding :)
There's still no excuse for chillis in chocolates though. Or orange. I hate orange and chocolate.
(Beloved's secret vice that his family didn't know about is his eternal love of children's animation – we regularly have to steal my cousin's small children so we can go watch them. He also likes daemonic plushies)
Oh and behold Beloved, I am saying nice things about you. See? I don't mock you all the time. Despite the 22lb turkey (no I have not forgotten and I don't care how long ago it was, it's gold and when I'm in a rocking chair hiding your false teeth I'll still be reminding you of it) or the mince or the “cleaning” or the restaurant with me in rags, or the unlabelled freezer bags (which you've done AGAIN I might add) or the BBQ that cost more than the oven. (Not that I'm keeping score or anything).
And the daemonic plushies will be seen as cute, not mockable, so you can't claim I still poked you. So there.