Real Men Eat Treats

Today my daughter, Savannah, and I ran a few errands and then stopped in at The Chocolate, a cute dessert cafe in a little repurposed old house on State Street in Orem. I know, she should have been in school, but she had an upset stomach this morning and tearfully told me she didn't want to go. Because she IS me at that age, I understood completely and told her she could have the day off. (Don't worry. She's limited to three of these personal days per year, so she won't ever get as behind as I used to.)

The Chocolate isn't set up like most cafes. Because its an older house, each room is set up with a few tables, couches, or chairs. It's very homey and inviting.

We admired the beautiful treats and decided what we wanted--a cream cheese brownie for me and a strawberry shortcake creampuff for Savannah, because she inexplicably doesn't really like chocolate. How can she be so like me when it comes to school and so unlike me when it comes to delightful goodies? It's a mystery.

Through the doorway to the adjoining room, I saw six men sitting on two couches and two chairs around a coffee table. They were laughing and talking and finishing up plates of dessert. About the time we finished making our purchase and headed for the door, so did they.

The cashier said, "Bye guys, see you next week," to which they all offered their varied goodbyes.

Outside, they walked to three vehicles. Two men got in a sedan, two men got in a large pick-up truck and two men got into a jeep, all tossing out manly farewells to each other.

These were not girly men. They were big, strapping, athletic, manly men, probably in their thirties. They looked like the kind of men who would meet at the steakhouse for a slab of beef, not at a cute little dessert cafe for treats.

It was surprising and made me smile. I wanted to commend them on their weekly arrangment.

What I really wanted to do was ask them if I can join them next week.

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