30th Anniversary Chocolate Cake
2 squinty-eyed cheesecake girls on a dirty laptop
Today I’m telling a story that needs to be heard. Today I’m helping a friend heal from an actual factual cheesecake trauma.
Our story begins about 20 years ago in Miami Florida. Little Gaby was 8 years old and she was the cheesecake girl in her family. Every family has one. In her family it was her, in my family it’s me, in Lincoln’s (Cookie Dough Lover’s With Pecans) family it’s his niece. Who’s the Cheesecake Girl in your family of origin?
Gaby wasn’t just the cheesecake girl, she was also the dairy queen. Gaby drank 8 or 9 glasses of whole milk every day. She brought milk to school and drank it in class. She would be so excited to go home at the end of the day and drink more milk, she would have to sit on her little hands. First thing in the morning, she would wake up thinking about the cold glass of milk she would get for breakfast. Milk before dinner. During dinner. After dinner. Her mom asked her pediatrician if it was okay for Gaby to drink this much milk. And it was.
Until it wasn’t.
Gaby’s godparents were two childless eccentrics. They loved to take her out for unique and extravagant adventures like watching sea turtles give birth. Or going to this magical sounding place called Jaxson’s where they would let Gaby the Dairy Queen order The Kitchen Sink: 36 scoops of ice cream in a literal sink.
One day these Pez-collecting, butterfly-harvesting godparents took Gaby to the Ventura Mall Cheesecake Factory for a slice of Original cheesecake. Gaby’s favorite. She was usually quite loyal to chocolate desserts but cheesecake was the one exception. And she savored her desserts. She liked to take hours to finish, slow small bites, knowing that she didn’t want to be the first one done. She didn’t want to be in the position of having to watch anyone else enjoying their dessert without her. So she took her time. No wonder her godparents enjoyed taking her out. They could see how much pleasure little Gaby got out of life.
She still remembers the looks on their faces, how happy they were to watch her eating her cheesecake.
And she remembers the fear in her mother’s eyes after she spent the next 7 days projectile vomiting. From that single slice of TCF cheesecake. The slice that changed Gaby’s life forever.
Her mother made her a bed on the floor next to the toilet. Her little body had just stopped being able to process all that dairy. After one full week of vomiting, she tried to take a sip of milk but couldn’t. She threw up again immediately. Her parents finally had to sit her down and break the bad news. She was lactose intolerant. No more whole milk, no more Kitchen Sinks, no more cheesecake.
Gaby thought about dairy just as much as she always had but now it was in the context of avoiding it. Taking her Lactaid pills. Drinking Lactaid “milk”. She couldn’t look at a slice of cheesecake without feeling sick. So yeah, cheesecake trauma isn’t an exaggeration. It’s real. She didn’t eat another bite of cheesecake again.
Until a couple of years ago when she went back to TCF to face her greatest fear. The cheesecake that killed her innocence and robbed her of her status as the cheesecake girl and dairy queen of her family. She returned to the same TCF location in the Ventura Mall in Miami Florida. She had her first taste of cheesecake in two decades. She savored every single bite. She felt whole again. Repaired.
And then she met me. The cheesecake girl of my family. Writing a cheesecake blog, trying all the flavors at The Cheesecake Factory. And a trauma-informed therapist to boot. Life….finds a way.
When I heard her story, I knew something greater was bringing us together. Because I’ve known Gaby now for a couple of years, since I started working at The Relational Center. I remember my first time seeing her on a Zoom at one of the yearly retreats. When she spoke I was entranced. She’s very clear and powerful when she shares her ideas. Her spirit has been around this earth for a long time. She has so much wisdom that it’s easy to forget how old she actually is. I’m so lucky that we’re in the same supervision group because I learn so much from her. She’s a spark plug, a firecracker, all those fiery bright sparkly images. That’s Gaby. It breaks my heart to imagine her as an 8 year old, puking her guts out for an entire week.
Gaby chose the 30th Anniversary Chocolate Cake because she’s about to turn 30 and because she loves chocolate. Since she lives in the Bay Area, the idea was we would meet on Zoom and she would watch me eat a slice of cheesecake. Like her godparents before her, living vicariously through my joy. I got it delivered along with a baguette of their famous brown bread. Which by the way was only $3.50!!
Y’all know I prefer the fruity, the zesty, the creamy and tangy flavors. But this slice? This is my new favorite of the chocolates. Move over, Godiva sweetie. This slice includes layers of Linda’s Fudge Cake, one of their desserts that isn’t cheesecake. But I can see why it’s so popular and named after a family member. It’s delicious. It smells delicious. It comes with a giant rosette of chocolate truffle cream.
Guh. Look at how that bottom layer of cheesecake is bulging out. That is sex. GOOD GODDESS. I ate it like young Gaby, slowly savoring each bite. Not wanting to finish. I didn’t finish! I saved myself about a third of it and had some with my coffee this morning at breakfast. I’m saving more of it for tonight so I can get stoned and enjoy it while high. I loved this slice. I loved our Zoom cheesecake date. It lasted 4 hours! About as long as a slice of cheesecake could last Gaby when she was 8 years old.
I am honored that Gaby allowed me to share this story. If it can help just one little cheesecake girl out there, that’s enough for me. Honestly. If I can touch just one life, I will have done my job. In honor of Gaby’s story, and in honor of all the cheesecake girls in the world who are no doubt reading this, who may be feeling powerless, broken, unseen or unloved: I made this merch.
30th Anniversary Chocolate Cake: 4 out of 5
Lemon Meringue
Mango Key Lime
Lemon Raspberry Cream
Pineapple Upside Down Cake
White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle
The Original
30th Anniversary Chocolate Cake
Adam’s Peanut Butter Cup Fudge Ripple
Classic Basque
Chocolate Caramelicious Made With Snickers
Cinnabon Cinnamon Swirl
Very Cherry Ghirardelli Chocolate
Fresh Banana Cream
Godiva Chocolate
Ultimate Red Velvet Cake
Fresh Strawberry
Vanilla Bean
Cookie Dough Lover’s with Pecans
Reese’s Peanut Butter Chocolate Cake
Toasted Marshmallow S’Mores Galore
Tiramisu
Celebration
Salted Caramel
I’d like to end by sharing what not to do on a dating app. Men, I’m looking at you.
I wrote on my profile that I would like to “get a slice of cheesecake at The Cheesecake Factory” with someone, like on a date. And this clown replied “what about pie?”. Wearing a hoodie.
IF YOU DON’T WANT TO GET CHEESECAKE, DON’T REPLY TO MY CHEESECAKE RELATED PROMPT.
Don’t bring your goofy pie-loving ass to MY profile and ask me to change MY MIND about a date we aren’t even on yet. Sir. We have not even matched yet. I have shown no interest in you. What about pie. What ABOUT pie?? Like. What are you even saying to me right now. I should just have different desires, needs, and wants?? That are more in alignment with YOURS??? A stranger???? You must be fucking joking me. I must be in a comedy club right now because you sound like a fucking joke. And this is your first approach. Are you trying to neg me or something? Is this a cheesecake neg? “Oh you like cheesecake? That’s cute but have you tried pie? Have you even heard of pie? Do girls know about pie? I’m a guy and we like pie. Guys don’t eat cheesecake” Do you hear yourself Mike???? This is male entitlement to a T. Mike, it’s the year of the Barbie movie. You need to come to Hinge with some goddamn humility. You will go on a cheesecake date with me and you will be THANKFUL FOR IT. Maybe if we’ve been dating for a year, then you can suggest getting pie. But this is way too early on in the process to be asking me to give up my Self for your comfort. Think again. Think twice. Come at me correct.
God I hate my dad (the bio one).