While everybody thinks that everybody else in the world loves chocolate, I am living in denial. Because I don’t.

Women and chocolate. Their correlation is so high that you can’t possible separate the two. Break-up treatments? Five boxes of chocolate plus (insert your unknown number here) glasses of alcohol. Winter jitters? Chocolate platter plus rich hot chocolate at your nearest chocobar. Celebration? A justifiable excuse to devour sticky date pudding, chocolate soufflé, and fudge cake – all at the same day.

Not for me, though, definitely not for me.

I might be the only girl in the world that doesn’t like chocolate. But that doesn’t matter. I still don’t like it.

The funny thing is, I used to sort-of-kinda-a-bit like chocolate. How could I not, I come from a family that adores chocolate. My Dad’s a choconatic (read: chocolate-fanatic), as well as my second sister. My Mom loves liquor chocolates. My first sister, at least, eats it.

I used to eat Kit Kat and Tim Tam when I was in high school, but gradually I crave less. I used to drink hot chocolate, especially during my first year of university because I have a friend who works in Starbucks (and hence, free hot chocolate). But somehow, I love it less.

My first coffee is mocha. I have even gone the extra step by proclaiming that mocha was my favourite coffee. After six months, I need to re-proclaim that statement.

Every time I go anywhere with my family, my Mom would force me to try the new chocolate brand, and yes, it is always my worst nightmare.

Last Christmas, we went to the States and had a brief transit at Frankfurt. With exotic-looking European chocolate brands around, my Mom started to shove the chocolates down my throat.

I tried to run away. I tried to scream ‘NO’ with all breaths in my lungs despite it was 6AM in the morning. Somehow this simple fact can’t be possibly true, and will never be able to be registered in her brain.

Her daughter can’t possibly hate chocolate.

And that look. That three-quarter accusing, one-quarter surprised look from my friends when I (politely) decline their chocolate offers.

“You don’t what?” they would ask.

“I don’t like chocolate,” I would reply, half-smiling, half-rolling my eyes because I know it would be quite a long conversation.

“You don’t like chocolate? What could you possibly don’t like from chocolate?”

Ehm, let’s see. The sweetness, the overpowering taste of sweetness that makes my stomach twists, the super sweet, rich taste that makes my throat itchy, and NOT the fat intake.

Then I would need to clarify myself twice that it’s not because I’m scared of getting fat. I don’t think they believe me.

So what grudges do I have with chocolate, really? Disappointingly, there is no dramatic experience of being dumped at 15 and eating 30 boxes of chocolate to the point of NDE.

At one point in my life every chocolate in the world just turns out to be too chocolaty. And after one sip of my sister’s mocha I would quickly find solitude in my cup of latte.

The implication? Every human being in this world assumes that everybody else loves chocolate, and because I’m one of the Eve’s descendants, the expectation is doubled.

Partly, I blame the commercialisation of women and chocolates, of course. One day the advertisements decide to change the poisoned, gorgeous-looking red apples with rich, tempting, sweet substance called chocolate. They declare that it’s the new image of pleasure. And women are simply people who crave pleasure.

Imagine the horror of going to the office and find your colleagues offering you Easter eggs. This happened to me a couple of months ago during my internship, and I couldn’t possibly say no because I have just started. Good first impressions start with having mutual likeness, yes?

Well, simply saying, I don’t want to be the odd one out. Oh, that girl hates chocolate; she is damn weird.

But it’s not just chocolate.

I wonder how many times do I say yes, or pretend to follow everyone else’s opinions and likes and dislikes just because it’s just the easy road to take.

You know, just play along. Make life simple. Don’t tell your opinion. Not in real, face-to-face conversations anyway. Cause no one cares.

Why is it so hard to be ourselves? Why is it so hard not to try hard to please everyone? Why is it so hard to be liked genuinely by a handful of people, instead of having a massive of followers?

I wonder.

I wonder how many people are in the same boat as me.

A couple of weeks later the same colleague offered me another chocolate bar. That time, I smiled, and declined politely.