19 February 2007

No Strings On Me

Short of donating a lung, popping my last Thornton’s Cappuccino chocolate into Accountant’s lunch box, was about as grand a gesture as I could ever bestow on anyone. I felt it was time we tried to behave like a normal, loving couple and that this extraordinary sacrifice on my part may turn a marriage based on corruption and bribery into one more centred on kindness and selflessness.

In an office far away, the sweet fluffy centre of the best coffee truffle available in Britain, didn’t even graze a taste bud as it was swallowed whole by a Chartered Ingrate. The email I received at 13:56 simply said, “Thanks for the choccie”.

A dissertation entitled ‘My Wife – How Lucky Can One Man Be’ would barely have come close to the credit I expected. “Thanks for the choccie!”. That wasn’t just a ‘choccie’, that was a luxury aromatic coffee and double cream truffle swirl, sprinkled with ground Brazilian beans ‘choccie’. This evoked similar feelings as the time I found all the greeting cards I’d ever sent him heaped in the rubbish bin. All my heartfelt sentiments awaiting disposal at the nearest landfill.

The very wise, fluff focused GlamNan would tell me not to expect anything in return and that giving is it’s own reward. A lovely theory. However, there’s a very fine line between graciousness and being exploited by the ungracious.

It must be my confused, fluctuating hormones which haven’t been informed by the responsible brain cell that I had the baby sixteen months ago, that has turned the offering of one perfectly formed truffle into a rant about grace.

With that in mind, Accountant did email to say thank you and that the gesture was appreciated albeit in ‘man’ format. The moral to the blog? GlamNan is right. Don’t give chocolates with invisible strings attached, they cause gagging.

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