I often wonder what chocolate tastes like to other people, because so many are so over the moon about it. My boss has a bowl of chocolate on his desk for public consumption, and people are constantly stopping by. Even if we’re in the office having a meeting, they’ll open the door and duck and grab, with a “Sorry, just needed chocolate.” It’s worse in the afternoon, and particularly on Wednesdays. It usually derails my train of thought, because I have to wonder why these people who would otherwise never be rude, in this case intrude just because they need chocolate. I look at the bowl and feel nothing.
It’s a burden sometimes, to be an anomaly. What, not like chocolate? If I had a dime for every time someone asked me why not, I could quit my job and never look at that chocolate bowl again. I have grown to hate birthday celebrations, because 4 times out of 5 there is chocolate cake. For most chocolate, I am indifferent, can enjoy it on occasion but could live in a world without it. However, thanks to one summer working the night shift at LaBree’s bakery, I have an intense and active dislike of chocolate cake. Even so, I usually feel pressured to choke down a piece anyway, to stem the inevitable commentary.
It’s the same with coffee and alcohol; I don’t particularly like either of them or the way they make me feel, though I can pretend when the occasion warrants. Also true for most sodas, with the exception of Canadian golden ginger ale and a craving for root beer now and again. People say, oh, you’re so good not to have a vice. Or ooooh, she must be religious. A study in Switzerland suggested that it’s a bacterial problem. I think it’s nothing as complicated as all that; some people just don’t like chocolate. The end.