When I was younger, and less prone to the muffin-topping that plagues me so these days, my favorite Christmas gifts were those big boxes of See’s chocolates.  The heavier the box, the brighter my eyes. Lucky for me, my parents didn’t particularly care for those gifts- leaving more for me (well, and my sibs too, I suppose, but for years, I was the strongest, so…).   I loved those chewy, nougat or caramel and nut-filled chocolates the best. The next best were those filled with buttercreams- vanilla, chocolate, or coffee. The last, and the ones to be avoided at all cost, were those ghastly buttercreams filled with some concoction of fruit. These were rejected by both my siblings and me, and were unceremoniously tossed, along with the box, after days of gorging on chocolates and adding to the dentist’s bill.  Am I going to write an entire post about chocolates? Patience, dear reader! (You are out there, aren’t you…?)

I’ve gone on a couple of blind dates, set up by well-meaning friends, friends of friends, or parents’ friends. All this time, I’ve been looking for my perfect man- to carry on the chocolate analogy, let’s say, rich, strong, but sweet, slightly complex on the inside, but smooth and attractive on the outside. I’ve been bitter, though, because it seemed to me as though each date had turned out to be the nefarious fruit buttercream- unpleasant through and through. And it’s not as though I’ve been set up with jerks; for the most part, they were well-mannered and nice. But I’ve complained; oh yes, I’ve complained. “He was too fleshy,” I cried to my poor sister. “Ugh, gross; I couldn’t get past his cul-de-sac” (referring to another date’s hair, not his place of residence).  Maybe I never outgrew that picky little girl who refused to give those poor raspberry-buttercream chocolates a chance.  So, I’m at a crossroads. Do I keep hoping for those chocolate caramels and nougats- or do I finally give those raspberry buttercreams a chance?

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