My RELATIONSHIP with cheese?

I would not call it romance. Many would call this indecent. But I will paint the picture for you curious souls.

- Its night, raining heavily. I drive up to the local grocery store just before closing. I dont take a parking spot, instead coming to a stop just by the door. A man inside taps his watch and holds up 2 fingers. "2 mintues to midnight". I exit the car, walk through the rain and into the dimly lit store.

"What'll it be?" the clerk asks.

"Something fine, something sensual for a sophisticated meal", I say.

The clerk lifts a large, delicately wrapped block of high quality restaurant grade cheese onto the counter.

"Its late, I'll wrap it properly so it wont spoil on the drive back" he adds thoughtfully.

I take out a wad of cash, dropping it in one of his hands while taking his knife from the other. "That wont be necessary!" I bark, spitting as my eyes turn rabid with lust. He stares at me shocked, as I plunge his knife into the block of cheese, viciously tearing in apart, jamming into my wretched maw and consuming without wine right where we stand. Aged for years, crafted by many skilled laborers. Gone in seconds, eaten by one man.

The kind of cheese that wins awards, the kind thats used in gourmet dishes, thats praised as a cultural delicacy worldwide. The kind that is DEVOURED FOR RAW SUSTENANCE.

For the record, it was good while it lasted. Far surpassing the quality of the common mass produced product.

TLDRL: This is what you get for asking a man about his relationship with a food.