Tuesday, October 28, 2008
A Donut Date
by Shirley Bahlmann
It happened at a college ward Halloween party. I wasn't there because I'm in college, although I once was, but because my husband works as ward clerk. I was supposed to be a good influence, you know, the stable older wife of the slightly nerdy clerk, yadda, yadda. (Except that hubby is a mountain man who knows Broadway musicals and recognizes opera. He's a macho nerd.)
Anyway, someone had the great idea of tying donuts to a broom handle and dangling them in front of hungry college students. I'm telling you, it was hard to hold them back. Once the students sunk their teeth into the confections and snarfed them down, they thought it would be fun to have the older, more sedate party-goers bite into donuts without using their hands.
(Ah... but they said nothing about faces.) I wasn't going to play because I'm on a low-cholesterol diet, but I was peer-pressured into standing in line beside my husband, the dangerous donut mocking me with its sugary sweetness.
"On your mark, get set, go!"
I lunged into the donut, then swung it around with my face and pushed it into my surprised husband's cheek, and took a big bite. (Of the donut, not his cheek.) It worked so well, I did it again. Then a third of the donut fell on the floor, and I did a victory dance in my long red-riding hood cape.
But my dance was short-lived. Bob was struggling with his confection. I hate to see a man suffer, especially one I'm married to, so I placed myself in mortal danger and stood behind his donut, with the pastry right at lip level. He went for it. We kissed. (Well, if you can call mashing your lips together against a big fat puff of sweet dough kissing.) The kids laughed. We did it again. By the time Bob had the donut down, I was glazed from forehead to chin. Half an hour later, I was still peeling frosting off my face in hidden places.
I'm thinking that Bob and I weren't cheating, no, we were setting a good example of how to stay in love 30 years later.
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