I had an Oprah moment while arguing over cake with Eugenio at Chili's, yesterday's date night location of choice (we fancy). Once a week we go on date night to keep the romance alive. Our romance is silently eating food in each other's presence and then later going home to rub bellies together. As I maneuvered my spoon towards the front of the plate to grab a bite, Eugenio complained,"Bebita! Don't just eat the center part! UGH!" If it were Thanksgiving and family members where around the table, his tone suggested he might add, "I hate you! I hate you all!" while storming off -- with his cake in tow, I imagine. Moments like that are nothing but pure love. FYI, the center was special because this was an Oreo Molten Cake. I'll refrain from describing it because the descriptors are just naughty.

"I'm not! The cake is faced towards you, so I have to reach around to get some of the middle. Gosh!" I replied matching his angst before bursting out in laughter at the scene. Two grown ass adults fighting over cake, shoveling it in our faces as fast as possible. 

We always eat desert with such voracity you'd think we missed the entire preceding dinner along with all the meals ever, but really we're just in a race to make sure the other doesn't unfairly get a bigger slice. Romance, y'all, romance.

So, fighting over a piece of cake, I had an a-ha moment, which is a moment so stupid because you're realizing something so obvious, which you then over analyze with an overwrought explanation and pretend that you're growing wiser. I realized another reason why I love Neno so much is that he is as passionate about sweets as I. Wait, I just said that I love my husband because he is just like me! Sounds about right! Actually, we have very little in common and we disagree on many big, philosophical questions, but we agree on one of the most important: dessert. If I can offer any relationship advice, it's that you really need to find someone whose palate jives with your own. Actually, I didn't intend to write a relationship epiphany here, that just came out of my fingers, so there you have it, a bad maxim on love to add to the mix. If you don't agree on cake, break the fuck up RIGHT NOW.  I only meant to say that I just acknowledged, after three years worth of chocolate molten cake and banana tempura filled date nights, how much we both like to eat refined sugar after a meal and how I enjoy that mutual passion for bodily disrespect, despite the constant clinking of spoons as we draw lines on the battleground of a plate. With Eugenio, there's none of that inward turmoil of hoping that the other says yes to desert.  Say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes. Then agreeing, "Oh yeah, waaayy too stuffed! Woo! Desert? Ugh, no thank ya!" when he purports no room for cake.

With Eugenio, dessert is never a question. We pick it first. Sometimes we talk about it the night before. After eating without talking we then discuss how full we are. "Estoy muy llena!" I declare, because meal time is also when I practice Spanish, which entails pretty much reiterating the same phrases every night. Then we stop the waiter as he's on his way to help someone else, because we really can't wait to request the cake.

I've been talking about cake a lot lately. Like anti social kids who do bad things, just blame it on the music. Okay I'm done with this topic forever bye. 

Oh, and PS, Chili's now serves CoronaRitas, so that shit's gone mainstream. I don't know how I feel about that.