Among his many odd habits, my first husband would not eat caramels even though he loved them. He had read once that caramels were detrimental to good character or something like that. If you ate caramels, it meant you were weak and soft. Eating gooey, chewy treats would ultimately lead to a degenerate personality.
On the upside it meant I never had to fight for my favourite when a box of chocolates came our way. Actually, I had most of the box to myself because he felt the path to perdition was paved with all chocolate, dark, semi-sweet or milk, regardless of filling.
I suppose to build my character I could have eaten the ones with coconut or (bleecch) walnuts but I never became that desperate. Besides, my personality and keen moral sense was doing just fine without additional penance.
Those unpalatable orphans would be left to petrify on the table for a random munchie-afflicted visitor to pounce on. And this, boys and girls, is what the young people in my day did for entertainment if they couldn’t afford a lava lamp.
By the time he was in his late 20’s he’d come to realize depriving oneself of indulgences and subjecting himself to privations did not build any more character than he already had. Desperation to conform can not overcome the desire to be free.
Inclination won out over determination.
When presented with a box of chocolates now, I’m shameless in digging out all the caramels. Life is too short to go looking for love in all the wrong fillings.
5 Responses to Run Forrest, Run….