It started as an ordinary morning in the kitchen—sunlight streaming through the window, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, and a wife ready to serve up a classic breakfast spread.
She cheerfully called out, “Honey, would you like some bacon and eggs? Maybe a slice of toast, grapefruit juice, or coffee?”
From the other room, her husband’s voice came back calm but firm: “Thanks, but I’m not hungry right now.” She didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe he just wasn’t feeling it this morning. But when she pressed, “Are you sure? I made your favorite,” he added casually, “It’s the Viagra. It’s really dulled my appetite.”
She blinked, trying to process the connection. “The Viagra?” she repeated, trying to suppress a laugh. He nodded. “Yeah, it’s supposed to do that sometimes.” She shrugged and moved on, deciding not to push it.
But lunchtime arrived, and the scene repeated itself almost like clockwork. She set out a bowl of warm homemade soup, a plate of fresh muffins, and even a cheese sandwich—just in case. “Hungry?” she asked, hopeful.
“Nope,” he replied, avoiding eye contact with the food. “Still the Viagra. Killed my appetite.”
Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Killed it? You sure it’s not just your excuse to skip lunch?” she teased, half smiling.
“Nope. Honest,” he insisted. “I’m telling you, it’s this stuff. I haven’t eaten much all day.”
Now slightly concerned but mostly amused, she left the food untouched and waited for dinner. Surely by then his appetite would have returned.
When evening came, she pulled out all the stops: a juicy ribeye steak grilled to perfection, homemade apple pie cooling on the counter, rotisserie chicken with herbs, and a colorful stir-fry loaded with fresh veggies. The kitchen looked like a five-star restaurant had moved in. She called him over like a proud chef, “Dinner’s ready! Dig in!”
Her husband’s response? The same polite decline. “No thanks. Still no appetite.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Viagra again?”
“Viagra,” he confirmed solemnly.
She sat down beside him, a mix of exasperation and amusement bubbling up. “Okay,” she said, folding her arms, “I get it. The Viagra’s ruined your appetite.”
He nodded solemnly. Then, after a beat, she threw her hands up and said, “Well, would you mind getting off me? Because I’m starving here!”
That was the moment the whole thing clicked into place—the real reason behind his “lack of appetite.” The poor guy was so focused on… well, you can guess what, that food just wasn’t a priority. Meanwhile, she was stuck in this bizarre tug-of-war between her husband’s chemistry-induced appetite loss and her own rumbling stomach.
Conclusion
What began as a simple breakfast offer turned into a full-day saga of refusals, excuses, and escalating frustration. The Viagra wasn’t just messing with his appetite—it was messing with her patience. Their day became a quirky dance of love, chemistry, and hunger, reminding us all that sometimes, the most mundane routines can reveal the funniest and most unexpected sides of relationships.
In the end, she learned that a little humor, a lot of patience, and maybe a side of takeout might just be the best recipe for surviving the effects of… well, you know, medicine.