First of all, I have to state that this isn’t a “choice.” It’s genetic. Inborn. Do you think if I had a choice about this, I would choose to go against societal norms? To face constant ridicule? Don’t you think I would rather be normal?

Well, here it is. I’m coming out of the closet:

I. Do. Not. Like. Chocolate.

I don’t like chocolate. At all. In any form. What’s more, I never have.

I can hear you all gasping in horror and disbelief. I’m used to that. If I said I’d bumped off a family member, I might get some understanding. If I’d run over a priest, I might get some sympathy. But when I explain I don’t like chocolate, people react as if I’d just calmly announced I were an ax murderer.

They recoil, gasp and demand, “What’s WRONG with you?”

It’s not normal in this country to dislike chocolate. My own mother frequently forgets that in 21 years, I have never eaten chocolate and she often tries to serve it to me (of course, I’ve never eaten broccoli willingly in 21 years, but she still serves me that too).

Good friends of many years, who I’m sure I’ve told time and time again that I will not eat it, constantly offer me chocolate. It can make things awkward at parties where someone has a home-made cake and really wants me to try it — and I look and discover it’s chocolate. I try to choke down a bite or two with a smile, before rushing to find something to drink. Everybody brings M&Ms or chocolate-chocolate chip cookies to section meetings, makes hot chocolate on cold winter nights, and serves chocolate chippie pancakes as a breakfast treat. I’m left with whatever non-chocolate munchables I can rustle up.

The worst part about being anti-chocolate is that everyone is convinced that he or she can “turn” you. John assures, “Oh you’ll like THIS kind.” Mary cajoles, “Just try a little. EVERYONE likes chocolate.”

Everyone but me.

It doesn’t stop with friends. Waitresses, flight attendents and miscellaneous passers-by who overhear the conversation are all amazed when I refuse chocolate. “Oh, on a diet?” they sympathetically ask.

No no no no! No diet. I just don’t like chocolate.

“Oh, you have such self-control,” they sigh enviously. What, like it’s noble to not eat a food that makes you gag?

Someday we non-chocolate-eaters — all three of us — are going to rise up in revolution, protesting years of forgoing desert because the only offering is chocolate cake. We’ll get even for the years of shocked stares and disgusted looks.

Until then, all you chocolate-lovers should try to celebrate the diversity of your non-chocolate eating friends. Don’t ridicule us for being different. Don’t insist that “normal” people like chocolate. And show your support for our alternative life-style: serve a non-chocolate dessert at your next party.

But above all, please, please, please do not bake me a chocolate cake for my birthday. And if you do, don’t expect me to eat it.

The views expressed in the Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

• Chocolate is as chocolate does