chocolate obsessed

My boo and I, during happier times

Dear Chocolate,

Are you sitting down? I think you need to sit down for this.

Let me just cut to the chase and say it: we need to take a break. And by break I mean I’m packing your bags and shipping you out. It’s been swell and all but this whole relationship just doesn’t seem to be working for me.

Before you get all dramatic with the tears and the melting into a puddle at my feet, let me say my piece.

It’s not you, it’s me. You, my friend (if I can still call you that), are perfect. Just being in your presence is an absolute sensory overload. I routinely get completely lost in your deep, dark clutches. You unhinge me. But while you stay strong and solid, I transform into something quite different, which brings me to my next point.

I don’t like who I am when I’m with you. My love for you is so strong that the moment I even get a whiff of you, I feel my crazy eyes emerge. They get all wide and intense and obsessive. Next thing I know, my hands are shaky and I’m mopping drool off my chin. This is not an acceptable look for a woman trying to power through her grocery shopping.

And that’s not even all! I get one tiny little taste of you—I feel how you melt in my mouth, ever so slowly—and I am suddenly a woman possessed. I can’t tear myself away. I need all of you and I need it as quickly as I can get it. I will claw my way through anything to touch you to my lips one last time before you disappear.

When it’s over, I’m left disheveled and broken, wondering how I let myself succumb to you again. How I let myself lose control. Again. I can’t take the power you hold over me anymore.

Plus, you’re too jealous. Any time I decide to take a step back and play the field a little, I feel you tugging at me. Why would you settle when you’ve got the good stuff at home? No one else will love you like I do.

This must stop. Trust me, it’s going to be as hard on me as it is on you. But it’s for the best. For both of us. Plus, I know the inevitable makeup period will be the. best. ever.


Written by Jennifer Garry
Jen is a freelance writer and girl mom from New York. When she's not knee-deep in glittery crafts and girl talk, you can probably find her sprawled across her couch in the middle of a Netflix marathon with dark chocolate smeared on her face. The struggle is real.