Life is full of temptations.
My big screen TV beckons me to postpone my yard work.
My internet browser lures me from work with enticing web links.
A Nigerian Prince tries to separate me from money.
My wife temps me with her goodies.
No, not those goodies.
The decadent sweet taste of cheesecake. Not just any cheesecake. A cheesecake, she slow bakes at a temperature slightly hotter than car seats on a July day. A cheesecake with the consistency of humid air. To say, it it melts as you taste it, would be an understatement.
If that isn’t enough, she uses chunks of Snickers Candy Bars as topping. Then as an added prize, three whole Snickers Bars, are stuck into it like candles on a birthday cake. I can not prove it but I would swear those candy bars were calling me. Tempting me. Offering a sweet prize for the first people who tastes the cheesecake.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Diet or not, I wanted a piece. Not just any piece but one with large chucks of peanut filled candy on it and a whole Snickers bar stuck into it.
I’ll lift weights. I ‘ll do aerobics. I’ll promise myself anything to justify devouring a slice. I could already taste it when I asked. “When are we slicing the cheesecake?” I said it, trying to sound nonchalant.
Then came her reply like a hammer hitting an anvil.
“The cheesecake is not for us. I made it for a girl at work. She needs one for a party.”
Huh? I said with the intelligent sounds of a husband.
“You are dieting.” She added.” I wouldn’t tempt you like that.”
Not tempt me? I thought.
No, smelling cheesecake cook for what seemed like 16 days was not tempting.
No, watching a woman slowly cut and crumble Snickers bars tempting? Never.
Shish kabobing Snickers, like they were about to be deep fried. tempting? Are you kidding?
It was nice of her not to tempt me.
A Nigerian Prince should be so kind.