The Night Cap
Junk Food After Prime Rib
An intimate feast with your beautiful date.
The flavor of each other’s passion salivating the senses.
The essence of the lovers entices the mind and the body into a firm embrace.
Like a fine steak after it is finished, the couple is full and satiated.
Or at least one is.
After she falls asleep, her partner slowly slips out of bed, not to wake her.
While the steak tasted great, his mind has already locked into his next meal.
Something tasty, something easy, something intoxicating, something he knows he shouldn’t have but desires nonetheless.
A bag of chips hidden in the dark corner of the pantry.
His secret spot.
A decadent delight.
The first salty crisp pulls him into a dopamine daze.
One chip leads to two, two to three, three to many.
Never quite full, always looking for one more chip until the bag is empty.
What he thought would provide satisfaction, only made him feel aches and bloat.
Shame slices at his heart as he knows that the experience with his woman was more than enough and should have been his last taste of flavor for the night.
But the deed has been done. The pull of the potato chip too strong for his will.
“This will be last time”, he solemnly swears.
But he knows it is an empty promise.
Like his deed, the empty bag is buried in a tomb of secrecy.
As he gets into bed, feeling the regret of the meal. The only solace the man feels is that the chips are gone and that he can start fresh tomorrow without the pain of the truth to affect his partner’s experience.
After racing thoughts, the man succumbs to sleep.
He wakes to an empty bed.
Feeling the weight of last night snack, he lumbers slowly to open the door and sees his woman.
Her face is distraught and is swollen with tears, holding the empty bag of chips.
“You had crumbs on your shirt again”.
