Like any rational, kind, unselfish couple.

We take our chocolate seriously. More specifically, our Canadian chocolate.
My parents brought us 24 Wunderbars the last time they visited. 24. They love us. Upon realizing earlier this week that we'd come down to our very last bar, we both gasped. Brandon said "Wow, I'm impressed they lasted this long. Your parents brought them in February...no wait, March...oh. April. Hmm." Not that impressive.
Brandon's eyes got wide as he quietly asked if I'd like to share it with him - as opposed to him eating it himself. A better wife might have politely declined. I did nothing of the sort.
Then, as if I hadn't known the man for more than 6 years, he offers me the first bite. I countered with a look that said "we've tried to 'share' food before. I know how this ends." So instead, we did what any rational, kind, unselfish couple would do. Brandon got out the measuring tape.

 

We measured. He cut. I chose. (If you're a Friends fan, you'll remember Chandler & Rachel sharing a cheesecake in much the same way.) I was sure to take into account and analyze the length, the meltage, the ratio of milk chocolate to gooey caramel to crunchy peanut butter before I made my decision. Brandon got the plate as a consolation (my piece was slightly bigger) and I found him absentmindedly enjoying every. last. bite. Or should I say 'lick'?

We can't visit Canada soon enough.