It’s Easter morning and I delight in the idea of sitting down to a rich cup of hot coffee and a plate full of sweet treats to eat. I realize that these are all from the local grocery store bakery, not homemade, but in the past, I have enjoyed these same treats immensely. Excitedly, I place three Madeleines (small sea shell shaped pound cakes), two narrow slices of cheese coffee cake and one two-bite chocolate cupcake on my plate, a nice assortment indeed. I settle into my seat eagerly awaiting the first taste sensation. Dipping a Madeleine into my coffee, I know how much I enjoy this sweet treat, but biting into it, I am met with disappointment. I remember the package saying “lemon”, but I had ignored it thinking that was simply how the label has always read and I never noticed it before. Now I’m thinking, I was mistaken.
I have always heard that as we age, we lose our tastes for sweets, but I’m not that old! No, I think it has more to do with the quality of the pastries. I’ve been spoiled over the years being served tasty morsels created by my pastry chef friend Karen and being a decent baker myself, but still, I have always enjoyed a slice of cheese coffee cake picked up from the local grocery store. That and Madeleines are treats I have never created myself and I am well aware of the degrees of quality pastries that exist on the open market, but I have always enjoyed this particular coffee cake from this store. What changed?
It’s possible that there has been a change in the ingredients to cut costs. Maybe I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was and that in itself could alter my perception of the flavor. Or, is it more likely that my memory of the taste is exaggerated and the reality of its being a mediocre treat is finally seeping in? If that is the case, how many other situations/relationships in my life can this same idea be applied to…lots!
Michael is a prime example. I have to be honest and note that I had labeled him “Plan B” a long, long time ago. With all his disappearing acts, my mind knew that he could never be the man of my dreams, but my heart yearned for him and the passionate words of love he would shout from the figurative rooftops. He always managed to pop up on my screen right after I had spent some time with another man or when I was feeling rather content with my life. He pops up, causes me mental turmoil, making me doubt my choices and then “poof” he’s gone, leaving me yearning for a life that will never be. It’s happening again, but unlike the word “lemon” on the package of Madeleines that I noticed and ignored, I cannot ignore what it happening this time around. This time, I am not willing to devour what is being offered simply because it’s there. I want something better; I deserve something better, I want the real McCoy, and I am willing to wait for “Plan A” to make an appearance.
John the Pilot would be the cheese coffee cake. Even though I am fully aware that I am not enjoying its taste like I have previously, I have kept eating it. The cheese is missing the tang I remember, but it’s good enough and with a little bit of butter, because butter makes everything taste better, it is palatable. Like my relationship with John, I manage to enjoy the cheese coffee cake because I choose to cling to the lie that “This is good and this is what I said I wanted, right?” So, I keep nibbling because I’m too lazy and/or too stubborn to find something else to eat that I would enjoy much more. I keep eating it until it’s gone, but at least I have the common sense not to go for more. I walk away and do my best to forget about the good memories of previous times and focus on the fact that what may have been, no longer holds true.
The two-bite chocolate cupcake would be my ex-husband. It was so pretty, adorable even and I had high hopes of it being perfection, but in my heart, I knew from the beginning, even before I took the first of the two bites, I knew it would not compare to something I had made myself. It was only two bites, but I did eat both. The empty wrapper lies crumpled on the plate, one uneaten crumb left looking at me, it doesn’t look appetizing at all and it is void of any good memories of what I had hoped for. No, I will not be eating another two-bite cupcake, unless it is of my own making or made by someone with the desire and skills to be the perfect balance of sweetness, dark chocolate decadence and willingness to bring my wildest dreams to fruition.
In conclusion, I suppose my relationship choices have been like a plate of sweet enticing treats. Unlike a box of chocolates, I could plainly see what lie before me. I thought they were what I wanted, but I chose to ignore the reality of it all and ate up. Everything looked so pretty, so tasty, but like store bought pastries, not making them myself left me feeling disappointed. My tastes have matured. Experience has led me to understand better what it is that whets my appetite and satisfies my palate. However, unless I’m starving, I don’t believe I will be making the same choices, but who knows for certain.
I always have butter on hand and butter does make everything better.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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