I’ve often marveled at the mystical relationship between women and their chocolate. Light or dark, world-class or cheap, the fruit of the cocoa bean seems to be an enchanted concoction that can transform the ladies from worn down and woebegone to effusive and exuberant in a single bite.
I’ve even been a bit arrogant from time to time, boasting about how we men are clearly above such nonsense.
But then . . .
The other day, I stopped by See’s Candy in the blackest of moods. I was so miserable I didn’t try to hide it when I walked in. I even refused to buy anything for myself. But the lady behind the counter offered me the obligatory sample, so I returned the obligatory thanks and ate the thing while giving her my order. She filled it, I paid for it, and then I left the store.
As I got into my car, I noticed that my black mood seemed to have vanished. I felt – yes – light and airy. The next thing I knew, I was singing some goofy pop song from decades ago, and bopping around behind the wheel. I was happy. Oh, so happy! I was smiling at nothing!
Then I remembered: I’d just eaten Chocolate. I was shocked, but still smiling. This had never happened to me before. I was so glad to be alone, convinced that I was betraying my fellow guys in the worst of ways. Also, because I couldn’t stop smiling, and I didn’t seem to want to.
So no more boasting from me about male supremacy over chocolate. I certainly don’t want to be a hypocrite. Besides, no one will believe me with this big cocoa-covered smile on my face.