Let’s Wait Until They Cut the Cake

Let me set the scene. You’re at a birthday party.

(It could be any type of party, but in this instance, it’s a birthday party.)

It’s taking place in a fancy hotel function room. The host isn’t in your immediate circle of friends, but you gratefully accepted an invite anyway. There’s music, liquor, merriment…and a huge iced cake sitting on the side. You’re looking forward to having a slice of that. You really are.

You’re enjoying a few alcoholic beverages and maybe having a dance with some of the more familiar faces that have also turned up. You’re smiling and laughing and looking as though you’re having the time of your life (mainly for the host’s sake), but your mind is otherwise engaged. When are they going to cut that cake? We’ve been here for 3 hours now, it’s 11 pm. Surely it’s time?

In hushed tones you say to your boyfriend, “The cake looks good, doesn’t it?” This is the first time you’ve spoken about the cake out loud. He glances at it and replies, “Uh, yeah? Do you want another drink?” You nod, but you’re not sure another gin and tonic is going to scratch your itch. I bet it’s a jam and cream sponge. Although it could be a chocolate cake. I really hope it’s not fruitcake…that will be SO disappointing for everyone.

The host mingles with your group, so you politely kiss her on the cheek then thank her for inviting you and tell her you’re having a wonderful time. Do I say something?

“Your cake looks incredible! Who made it?” you ask, hoping to get the cake ball rolling, so to speak. The host gives you an answer, but you couldn’t give a single damn where it came from, or who beat the eggs or sifted the flour, you just want to know when you can have a frickin’ slice. As the host leaves to mingle with another posse, a sense of unease rises through you.

Midnight strikes and a few revelers begin to leave the party, cake-less. Your heart rate quickens. Were they offered any cake before they left? What kind of host doesn’t offer their guests cake? Especially after it’s been sitting there all night! This is beyond a joke.

“Do you want to leave soon?” asks your boyfriend. “Sure,” you reply. You realize that you’re staring at the cake as if it were a stray puppy you can’t bear to leave behind. “But do you think they’re going to cut the cake soon?”

“I don’t know, does it matter?” your boyfriend chortles. He thinks I’m being childish, I bet. “There’s some cake at home if you’re that desperate!” NOT THE POINT, IDIOT. Still, you say your goodbyes and depart the party, leaving the untouched, virgin cake behind.

There is no pet peeve worse than not being able to have your cake, or eat it either.

Photographed by Will Cotton for New York Magazine.

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