Milk Chocolate-Covered Peanuts
Perfunctory and basic. Kind of like receiving a last-minute gift of a box of drugstore chocolates with the clearance price tag still on.
Simple and sweet. Like the beginning of a relationship, before it’s clear that your partner is incapable of remembering your Wheaten terrier’s birthday.
The only worthwhile chocolate in the box. Of course, there’s only one, and of course, you were totally going to split it, but someone’s off Skyping with their life coach again and won’t even notice it’s gone, probably.
Crunchy and delicious. But only suggested for those who have good dental insurance, which they don’t offer to people who quit their corporate law jobs to pursue their dream of mastering the circus arts.
Made from ingredients sourced on an island you’ve always wanted to visit. Maybe you could actually go someday if someone could stop spending so much on vegan paleo meal kits.
See? It’s fun to sit around eating calcifying sweets while watching “House Hunters” reruns. It’s definitely as much fun as that absynthe-filled ski weekend you went on together after passing the bar exam.
If it tastes like fruit, it should actually be fruit, not some candy-coated chemical concoction that gaslights you into thinking you’re the one who wanted to move in with his parents to save up for a house.
The one shaped like a royal family crest:
Know what happens when Prince Harry abdicates his royal responsibilities? He gets kicked out of the royal family, loses his titles, and must take an everyman job as a water polo announcer. He has no time to leave a box full of half-eaten nougat rocks, none of which are the elusive truffle.
Peanut Butter Cup:
Deceptively sweet on the outside and salty on the inside. Perfect for people who have trouble committing to things, like careers or three-bedroom colonials in good school districts.
Milk Chocolate Heart:
Just like the one Leonard Lee gave you for Valentine’s Day in third grade. Who knew then that he would go on to create that chicken Insta account with one million followers. Just imagine what kind of dental insurance he must have.
A mystery wrapped in an enigma, then dipped in corn syrup and sprinkled with massive credit card debt from that sailboat they bought in college.
These are supposed to be included, but it looks like someone already ate them and replaced the spaces with Whoppers from last year’s Halloween candy. I guess devouring mounds of chocolate with a drop of cognac is a good way to numb the pain of still not being able to juggle more than two bowling pins at a time.
Dark Chocolate Ganache:
The bitterness will coat your tongue until you’re no longer able to figure out where your soul ends and your ennui begins.
A permanent reminder that love is fleeting, unpredictable, and Todd will always know in his heart that YOU ATE THE FUCKING TRUFFLE.
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Julie Vick’s humor writing has appeared in New Yorker Daily Shouts, McSweeney’s, and The Washington Post. She promises that her other writing is funnier than this bio. Follow her on twitter @vickjulie