Until I Meet My Husband, by Ryousuke Nanasaki.
As @spike382 would be the first to point out, it sounds like the title of a BL story.
But, in fact, it's a memoir. Nanasaki-san is one of two men in Japan—the other being his husband—who were able to have a religious ceremony for their marriage, rather than a civil union at a courthouse.
Hey, @spike382, I hope you're staying on top of organizing next year's Pervapalooza Festival. You should really choose @clochette as your Vice Chairman for the planning committee.
I went downtown before work and ordered a mini cheesecake from a café. The clerk forgot to include a fork with which to eat it, but I only realized this after I was seated on a bench two blocks away.
I was compelled to pick it up from the container and simply eat it like a donut. Undignified, I know, but 'twas something oddly satisfying about having one's fingers sticky with chocolate and caramel sauce, whilst trying not to drop toasted nuts everywhere.
Max got creative in the kitchen tonight. The menu is from Indigenous foodstuffs, and everything tasted amazing. So proud of what this kid has accomplished.
Main: Maple-glazed roast duck.
Sides: Wild rice pilaf, roasted squash, and blue corn cakes.
Toppings: Cranberry relish and maple-Sumac dressing.
Dessert: Blueberry oat-and-wild-rice crisp.
Drink: Sumac "lemonade".
I said we wouldn't want that.
Also, how tf does that even work?
Soaked with water for five minutes ➡️ gets the flu ➡️ runs a fever ➡️ needs sponge bath ➡️ partner is somehow the only person available to give said sponge bath.
It's even more nonsensical than the Japanese concept of curing a fever by probing the patient with a giant leek.