Men are like Candy Bars...

by

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 follows:

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 salad.