Chocolates or diamonds? Chocolates or diamonds?
A jewelry store commercial repeated this question as though it was a stressing an internal debate plaguing many men.
Well that’s outrageous. Throw them on the scales: months — or years if you’re like me — of paychecks for a necklace that will spend much of its time hidden under hair or modest dollars for rich desserts, several of which you can steal right back? Any guy with the slightest notion of fiscal responsibility and an appetite would pick chocolate.
Don’t worry, the commercial eventually said, you can combine the two. Open up the store’s heart-shaped box to find a heart-shaped pendant surrounded by what might as well be heart-shaped candies.
I’m not convinced the idea is that charming; to me, it’s like a misguided promise ring. The ornament contains an underlying pact to your significant other that you’ll love them even if uninhibited snacking causes colossal weight gain. Which is maybe noble and endearing (it’s all about personality, right?), but you’re sort of declaring that it’s inevitable. Without offering her even the benefit of the doubt, I’d say such a gift yields a slap to the face.
Coincidentally the icon for Valentine’s Day is often portrayed on the heftier side, but Cupid’s also sometimes seen as a child. And kids tend not to dissect the physiological implications of sugary delights; it’s just sugar, which is awesome.
That was certainly the overriding anticipation of mid-February when recess was still a crucial part of my day. I knew that Hershey’s Kisses and Sweethearts would find their way into my desk cubby, and they would be a delicious distraction to learning cursive, a “skill” I almost completely forgot by the time I had to write that paragraph for the SAT.
There just wasn’t much to the holiday aside from inhaling treats. Romance was a fickle thing we let Ninja Turtles or Doug Funny communicate on our behalf within perforated business cards that were restricted to 10 or so words. The outcome of that, we hoped, was maybe a hand to awkwardly hold while at the skating rink or a kiss blown to us for dominating tetherball. But crushes turned like the calendar, and we forgot Ms. February in favor of Ms. March.
Then there was a sea change. Girls rid themselves of all traces of cooties and we started making a few dollars for mowing lawns and shoveling snow. Suddenly relationships had a little bit of depth, and we could reach in our own pockets to buy that stuffed gorilla that requested, “Be mine.” That is to say, what could express feelings better than a scaled-down 400-pound silverback?