Orange Cup Cake

Disclaimer:

This blog post was originally written in 2015 and is being republished here on my Blogspot. Some references, experiences, or opinions shared may reflect when it was written. Enjoy reading, and thank you for revisiting this piece with me! 

Though I am not someone who typically craves chocolates, cakes, or pastries; I am just not a sugar person, whenever I do get a sudden urge for something sweet, the memory of one particular pastry always comes to mind: the orange cupcake.

It all started one weekend when I went on a long drive with my ex. As we cruised along, we passed a fancy bakery, and out of nowhere, I had a craving for cake. "Babyla! There's a bakery! I want a cake," I yelled. He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Since when do you eat sweet things?" he asked, as it was so unlike me to indulge in sugary treats. But we pulled over anyway. He decided to have an ice cream, while I found myself scanning the pastry display with curiosity. He started to get impatient, giving me that look of annoyance he often did when I took too long to decide on something trivial. So, feeling the pressure, I quickly grabbed the nearest option: an orange cupcake.

Later, when I recounted the whole story to my little cousin, she was in disbelief. The idea of me eating cake seemed foreign to her. After all, I always made sure that anything in my fridge was savory; salt over sugar, without a doubt. But as I described the cupcake, I realized I actually liked it. The tangy citrus flavor combined with the sweetness was surprisingly satisfying. I promised my cousin that the next time I visited that bakery, I had bring her one too.

A couple of months later, my ex had some work to do in that area on a Sunday, and he suggested I come along to keep him company. I was excited, not just to spend time with him, but to finally get that orange cupcake for my cousin.

But, of course, things didn’t go as planned. As we pulled up to the bakery, a few strangers were standing in front. My ex recognized them, and suddenly, he didn't want to get out of the car. I was excited to get the cupcake, but he refused to budge. Frustrated, I ripped up the money I had in my hand, money I had been planning to use to buy the cake.

Since that day, my dislike for pastries has only grown. And while I don’t crave sweets much anymore, the taste of that orange cupcake still lingers in my mind from time to time. It was a fleeting indulgence, like a short affair with a dessert.

Looking back, after the breakup, I can't help but reflect on that moment and how he chose to stay in the car instead of getting out to join me in something so simple. It’s clear now that I was naive, and I had ignored the signs. He played the antagonist in my brief yet memorable encounter with an orange cupcake. As for my cousin, she still teases me about the promise I made to get her one. She never did get that cupcake, and I guess that's just one of the many things left unresolved from that time.