Are You as Salty as a Salted Caramel?
Issue 10, Volume 113
February 14: Valentine’s Day, also known as the day you receive Valentine’s Day Grams from yourself because no one else would buy you any. I know you have never had a valentine; you fall well below everyone’s standards—not even the freshman furries would waste their time on you. Of course, I cannot relate to this because my copious suitors are lining up at my doorstep (Bridgerton-style), begging for the privilege of gifting me heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, expensive bouquets, and six-foot-tall teddy bears. However, I do know everyone’s personalities based on their favorite Valentine’s chocolates, and that gives me far more insight than a shared heartbreak ever could. I mean, what else am I going to do with a surplus of drugstore sweets other than reveal whether your best friend is as fruity as their favorite fruity chocolate, or if that goth kid down the street only likes dark chocolate to match their newly discovered dark side after binge-watching Wednesday?
You think that you are so sophisticated and sPeCiAl because your favorite chocolate is as rich as Jeff Bezos. Yeah, well, guess what? You are wrong. You crave attention and your “friends” want to flick you on the forehead whenever you come too close. Your expensive taste buds are just a cover for the fact that you were raised without an ounce of class. Secretly, you would much rather be chowing down on a pack of Sour Patch Kids, you cannibal. You are impatient and grumpier than Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street. Who are you kidding, eating some healthier version of milk chocolate when you know you want the real deal? You are judgy and have more opinions than my grandmother does after finding out the neighborhood gossip. Sure, your love of antioxidant-rich dark chocolate could reduce your risk of heart disease… if you even have a heart. You wear a monocle, walk around with a cane, and start every sentence with, “Back in my day…”
OMG!!! You are so quirky and special! You are not like other chocolate lovers; you like fruity chocolates! You are so peppy and energized from the fruits’ nutrients that the people around you would rather hear looped recordings of fingernails scratching a chalkboard than your obnoxious voice. Nobody cares that you like fruit-filled chocolate. If you’re gonna be a chocoholic, do it right! Lose the strawberries and raspberries and whatever else you guys put in there. You are only kidding yourself with your fruit salad of a candy. Stop worrying about what other people think of you—you are always a hot mess. Except you are not hot; you are just a mess. In fact, Einstein’s ratty hair looks better than yours.
You are basic [REDACTED]. Your favorite word is “slay” and you once thought a One Direction member was your soulmate. You seek security and comfort, which is why you went back to your ex even after all your friends begged you not to. Either that, or “situationship” is your middle name. You claim that you are easy-going: “I just love regular old milk chocolate.” But you are most certainly not. After all, you say chocolate is only real milk chocolate if it is made in Switzerland. Apparently, “Pennsylvanians do not know how to make proper chocolate, so Hershey chocolates can go melt in a ditch.”
Peanut Butter/Almond Butter Chocolate:
You have so much energy that being around you is like playing Whack-A-Mole: Your rodent head spawns out of nowhere, and everyone is always just too slow to give you a proper beating. The truth is, you are just plain nutty! Like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, you seem innocent enough from the outside, but you expose your despicable, oversalted center after you hang around for a while. Your personality is so toxic that people develop antibodies against you, but at least your hands are always “smooth like butter, like a criminal undercover.” Your go-to icebreaker fun fact is that your least favorite month is November.
Salted Caramel Chocolate:
There is no other way to say this except that you have a resting [REDACTED] face. Like your favorite chocolate, you are a combination of sweet and salty. You are as sweet as the feeling of a next-period free but as salty as the dread of having to run from the first floor to the 10th floor during passing time. You like to think that you have rizz, but my dead grandpa has more rizz than you do. Go get your caramel stuck in your braces or something. Actually, in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, go get your caramel stuck in someone else’s.
No one likes you, and white chocolate should not even be considered real chocolate. That is all I can say before this article gets cut due to my unforgivable use of profanity.
I have just proven to you two very important points. First, no matter which chocolate you like, there are several things wrong with you. After all, you are reading The Spectator instead of consulting Cosmopolitan or taking “Do they like me?” quizzes on Buzzfeed for relationship advice. Second, white chocolate is a no-no.
And a word of advice: the Duane Reade on North End Avenue sells cheap tissues for your Valentine’s Day sorrows.