Men are like Candy Bars...
A dear friend of mine recently went through a divorce, she was feeling
sad and blue and was having an off day. She explained to me that she found
comfort in a Reeses Peanutbutter Cup. I wrote back to her hoping to give her
some insight on lessons that I have learned in life with respect to the sweet but troublesome pursuit of love and chocolate. The message went as
- Sorry to hear you are having a down day. Am glad to hear you find solace
the same way I do... in a candy bar. I have learned long ago that solace
never comes in the form of a man, even when happily married. I also learned
that GOD was on women's side when he created the candy bar. He knew what he
was doing when he came up with such sweet confection. He knew that he would
have to counterbalance the lack of compassion and emotion when he came up with
idea of man.
- So, much to my delite, we have candy bars. My favorite is the heath bar.
Soft chocolate on the outside, hard toffee on the inside. Much resembling some men
and their true capacity of gentleness and softness. Looks good from the
outside, but when you take them in, you find them to be hard, nearly
impassable and often painful if expecting softness.
- Then there is the Reeses Peanutbutter cup. Hmm, a delicious treat. Not
too sweet, soft chocolate on the outside and yet creamy soft peanutbutter on
the inside. It too, has some resemblance to men: That forbidding circular
shape. Never quite knowing where to start with it. One can't help but wonder if there is an appropriate beginning and end, or
if one is to just dig in and hope for the best.
- Then again, some men are like the Butterfinger (as in the name, messy and sloppy). One hopes
for a wonderful experience just to have it crumble right in one's hands leaving
one to clean up a mess that seems to be never ending. Days later one discovers
lingering remnants of it all over the place. One could only hope that
eventually the sliver-like leftovers fade with time.
- Then there's another of my favorites, the Three Musketeers. Just the name alone gives
one hope of rescue. The promise of one gram of fat. Hmmm, sounds sooo good and
soo right. But that promise of one gram of fat is PER candy bar. So when one
is hopelessly addicted, that one gram turns into hundreds if not thousands,
crushing that healthy justification that one was doing something good for
oneself, if only to feel sadly misled and manipulated.
- Now that I think of it, the list of male traits and candy bars goes on and on...
So that poses
another Question in my mind. WAS GOD REALLY DOING US A FAVOR BY CREATING THE
CANDY BAR? Or was he simply giving us a double whammy when he gave us men who
drive us to candy bars? Next time you meet a man, ask yourself, "What kind of
candy bar am I in the mood for now?" And then look at the menu and order a
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