privacy, please

When couples get married, all manner of privacy evaporates. My wife was suddenly faced with the reality of sharing everything. Her once spacious bed with Sferra sheets is now cramped, wrinkled, and stained (don’t ask!). And the clean air now stinks of my wickedly pungent fart! Kidding! I, on the other hand, didn’t mind the sharing. Living in a tiny condo with a sister and a brother that borrows everything made me like this.

On our recent trip to Subic over the holidays (which I forgot to write about), we came back with some chocolates in tow, along with other things bought from the duty free shops there. As always, when I’m getting my chocolate fix, the sound of the wrapper tearing as I try to open it calls the attention of my wife, who instantly appears on my side, all glassy eyed and pleading for a bite. So on one particular night when my wife was in the bathroom, I stole a piece of Twix from our stash, went to the bedroom, turn off the lights, and decided to have a moment with my Twix. I wanted to finish a bar, for once, all by myself. I gingerly opened my Twix and took a bite. Aaah! Sarap! I took another one, and another one, all the time my eyes were closed. Eating chocolates slowly and with your eyes closed seemed to heighten the experience. Try it if you haven’t. After a few more bites, I was more than halfway through my bar. Suddenly, the lights turned on, my wife jumped on the bed, and shouted Pengeeeee!