Chock-O-Lot

So, do y'all remember how I met, fell in love with, got engaged to, and married that really great guy named Glenn?

Yes, yes of course you do. Because he's a hottiepants, I know.

Engagement Pics, 2011.  {Queen City Cait Photography}

But what you don't know is that we went through a near-death experience early on in our relationship that really tested us and made us stronger.

Y'all may or may not be aware of this one important little tidbit {it's a not, because I've yet to share it}, but Glenn can't eat chocolate.

I FREAKING KNOW! How could someone not face-plant straight into this every day after an ocassional hard day at work?

Well apparently someone {*ahem, ahem* Glennda} doesn't dive into such a treat because someone is allergic to chocolate.

Or so he told me. Right when we started dating, I found out that Glenn didn't eat the holiest of holies; the squares of heaven; the poop of gods, if you will {and if you're disgusting like me}. After I was done doing a quick reevaluation of our relationship, I asked him why and he said, "I'm allergic."

Cue: Pity Mode. Oh my god, this poor guy is allergic to chocolate and hasn't ever been able to eat it and now he says he doesn't even like it and that's just so sad.
Yeah, I thought that. But only for that early trying-to-impress stage of our relationship, and then quickly I got annoyed {Eh, just realized I might be a bitch. Note to self: reevaluate your own life} because I just couldn't fathom a world in which people don't eat chocolate!

So, flash forward four months to our first Christmas together. Glenn traveled down to SC and stayed with me at my parents' house for a few days. One night, we went out to dinner at this amazing steakhouse and at the end of the meal, I couldn't pass up dessert. Story of my life.

Not the same meal and not choco+pb pie. But equally delicious. 

And to me, dessert usually = chocolate. So I ordered this ridiculously huge piece of Peanut Butter+Chocolate pie. omnomnomnom. Under one condition: my poor boyfriend would try a bite, just to prove that he really couldn't eat chocolate.
I had my suspicions that he wasn't really allergic, but I needed to actually prove it. Also, have we considered that perhaps I'm an Angel of Death?

The rest of the night went something like this:
Pie arrives > I do a little airplane move with the pie and fork and shove it into Glenn's mouth > He gags it down and then acts like it was no big deal > I secretly hope I didn't just kill my boyfriend > Normal dinner conversation resumes.

As we leave the restaurant and hop in the car, Glenn starts clearing his throat a lot and coughing some, all while lightly scratching at his neck. Mind you, we lived less than five minutes from the restaurant, but over the course of the drive home his throat clearing become more frequent and he starts saying he's having trouble breathing. Along with things like,

"Alexa, how far away is the hospital?"
"Will you be able to drive me to the hospital if I need you to?"
"My throat is really scratchy."

COOL. Just so cool. At this point, I'm about to transition from Haha he's not allergic to chocolate, he was just faking mode, to full-blown PANIC ATTACK BECAUSE I JUST COMMITTED VOLUNTARY MANSLAUGHTER. Or perhaps just straight-up murder. I'm not sure how the degrees work.

I didn't wanna freak out my parents. I didn't wanna go to prison. I didn't wanna kill my boyfriend, obviously. So I was trying to stay mum, all the while looking at him and whispering, "Are you serious right now? Stop joking around! You're scaring me! Glenn, stop it. Glenn, ARE YOU GONNA DIE?" Ya know, just normal stuff.

When we get out of the car and just as I'm about to tell my parents I have to take my allergic reaction of a boyfriend to the hospital, Glenn looks at my dad and then back at me and just busts out into this uncontrollable laughing fit. Thanks for playing along, Daddy-O. Glenn's health was never in question, and he was certainly never having an allergic reaction to the delicious pie I force-fed him.
He's just a little bit of an asshat, that's all.

These two are in cahoots. And I don't like it one bit.

So, ladies, what have we learned here today? 
* Unless you have a doctor's note saying you're allergic to a delicious treat, particularly chocolate, I will perform my own allergy testing to prove or disprove your theory.

* Glenn thinks it's funny to bring me to the brink of a heart attack. And then laugh about it.

* Glenn is still weird for not liking chocolate. {And FYI his logic behind the "allergy" ~ He's plain ol' just never liked the stuff. He turned it down as a kid and adults didn't believe him, they always just thought his parents were strict crazies who wouldn't let him have sweets. But he quickly learned that when people offer you chocolate, they'll always question you if you say you don't like it ~ they'll never question you for saying you have a chocolate allergy. Unless, of course, they're your psycho girlfriend, in which case... well, you know.}

* When we go to The Melting Pot for Valentine's Day, I get an entire pot of chocolate to myself. That, my friends, IS HEAVEN ON EARTH.

And thus concludes the story of the time I lucked out of going to prison in the name of love.
Also, I'm happy to announce the winner of the custom blog design giveaway:
Veronica and Daniel @ Adventures of D & V!

Congratulations! Erin and I will both be in touch about your design. 

Thank you to everyone who entered!