While living in London, my wife, Ally, invited me to a social work function, and while the networking was fine, the dessert spread was magnificent. I found myself drawn back to the buffet table like a moth to a very sugary flame.
Eventually, Ally caught up with me, looking more than a little irritated.
"Don't you feel embarrassed?" she whispered, eyeing my latest haul. "That’s the fifth plate of dessert you’ve gone up for!"
I didn't miss a beat. I gave her my most charming, sugar-dusted grin.
"Not at all," I replied. "Every time I go up, I just tell them it’s for you."
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