Dating is Like a Box of Chocolates

My momma never said anything about boxes of chocolate and life, unless it was to wish out loud that the Russell Stover boxes she bought for our Easter baskets came with a chocolate box map, like the more expensive boxes did. If you're honest about it, you've stuck your finger in the bottom of a chocolate in order to see what kind it was before committing to the calories. I've always viewed the fruit nougaty kind as karmic betrayal. 

Dating is like a box of Russell Stover chocolates. There's no chocolate box map to help a person navigate the nasties. Instead, you have to go blind, relying on visual cues and past knowledge, to determine if your selection is worth your time and energy. Not so sure? Hear me out. If your dating history is anything like mine, you've experienced your share of fruit nougat. 

.   .   .

Enter Dave. He looked good on the outside. We had been friends all throughout geography class. Good sense of humor. Beefy shoulders and narrow-hipped. I had a secret crush on him, but he already had a girlfriend. Then there was the night at the university library. We had finished studying, and he offered to walk me back to my dorm.

"Hey, want to go to the bar with me this Saturday night?"

"You mean on a date?"

 "Yeah. Whattaya say?"

 I was over the moon. He had finally broken up with the girlfriend, and everything I had daydreamed about was finally happening. This guy was like one of those turtle chocolates-caramel, pecans, milk chocolate. Delicious. It felt like Saturday would never come. I rehearsed outfits and planned my look. 

He picked me up on time. We sat at the bar and yelled over the dance music. We shook our shit to Tone Loc's "Wild Thing." Finally, the dj played a slow song, something by Journey. It couldn't be more perfect. Just as I began to relax into his shoulder, something made me ask, "How did Annette take it?"

"Take what?"

"Your break up."

"I haven't broken up with her, yet."

I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away. "What the hell? What do you mean you haven't broken up yet?"

"I didn't want to break up until I knew you'd say, 'Yes.'"

And just like that, the guy I thought was a turtle chocolate was really a maple cream. 

Sometimes, it takes longer to discover that the person you thought was the dark chocolate and coconut delight is really some gooey cherry vanilla horror. 

Enter Michael. Michael was the poster boy for my "bad boy" era and the reason I refused to date anyone named Michael ever again.  He drove his Mustang GT with tinted windows at 90 in a 55 mph zone. He rocked his mullet (it was in style then, don't judge). We rocked out to Lita Ford and the Scorpions. He was my best friend's cousin, so there was no chance that he was a dud. I might not have had a chocolate box map, but I felt safe relying on her recommendation. 

Except, she never really made a recommendation. Hmmm. It took me a couple of years to discover that he was like a sugar-free box of chocolate-eat too many of those, and they'll give you the runs every time. He racked up $300 of video rental bills in my name while I was away at college for the semester. I couldn't dump him quickly enough. 

Enter Brian. We were friends before we began dating. Brian sang a mean karaoke. He used to sing advertising jingles for a living, but when I met him, he had started a karaoke business. Brian was reliable, like that one chocolate in the box that you can tell is solid milk chocolate. No unpleasant surprises. Nothing unexpected. Except for his intensity. 

On our third outing together, he told me he wanted to marry me. 

"Do you feel the same way?"

"Whaaaat?"

"I think you're perfect. You're everything I've ever wanted. Will you marry me?"

"Um. I think we should just be friends," I choked out.

I couldn't get out of his car fast enough. It turns out, Brian was more like one of those peanutty Butterfinger-like filled chocolates that stick in your teeth. I began seeing Brian every where I went out with my friends. I couldn't get rid of him. 

Finally, he found someone else to marry him. He met her about a month after proposing to me. He put a ring on her finger about two weeks later.

Dating is like a box of cheap chocolates. You never know what you're going to get. I've since switched to Bon Bon Bon chocolates. They're artisanal handmade chocolates...little works of art, really. I visit them every so often and hand pick my favorites. There are no unsavory surprises, no chocolate box maps are needed. 

Now, if only dating could be that way.

*All names have been changed to protect the current partners of these people.