A Rant and a Rave

She hated chocolate.

This, of course, was absolutely absurd; impossible, really… the words “chocolate” and “hate” did not make sense in that simple sentence. The notion of hating chocolate was the paragon of all paradoxes, for who in their estrogen-ridden mind could possibly hate chocolate, the bringer of bliss? The concoction that tops all confections with its enriching phenylethylamine benefits, caffeinated goodness, utterly smooth texture, rich taste, luxurious wrappings, delicious varieties, and countless other amazing advantages-

Apparently, it was now possible.

Alas, the poor dear, did she have any idea what she was missing? Was she the victim of some devastating childhood experience that forever ruined chocolate for her? It was possible, surely, that she did not mean what she said. No…she shook her head. She meant what she said.

This abhorrence of chocolate from such a seemingly sane person was shocking. Upon uttering this statement, several startled glances were sent her way. Was this the start of the apocalypse? Many frenzied people raised their faces heavenward, as if they could see the sky through the ceiling. Hands were held out in expectance of galactic debris and a few people frantically began to gathering up their belongings. No, to their utmost relief, the sky was not falling, but it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. Nevertheless, 2012 was just around the corner.

Assuming that she was a perfectly rational woman, what were her reasons to detest chocolate?

When asked this question, she merely laughed and exclaimed with a haughty toss of her, ironically, chocolate colored hair, “It’s too artificial for my refined taste.”

It took well over two seconds to process this statement. And when it was processed, it still did not make sense. It’s too artificial… It was laughable. Truly. Welcome to our society, darling, where most everything on the shelves was artificial, excluding things labeled, “organic.” Which was, sadly, far more expensive than “artificial” products… good ol’ milk from Bessie cost significantly more than a gallon of Vitamin D. Had she seen all the preservatives found in lemonade? Really, it was quite a shock that a bottle of lemonade could contain so many ingredients. A person could just squeeze their own lemons and be done with it. Lemons, water, and sugar; simple, really, if children could mass produce this drink on street corners. Goodness, if she detested chocolate for being too artificial to her liking, what did she eat on a normal basis? Most anything in a supermarket was off the list. Perhaps she was a farming sort of gal…yes…one who enjoyed the scent of moist earth and the feel of life beneath her gloves. Then again, depending on a person’s perspective, chocolate could look like dirt, couldn’t it?

There was a pause. She really seemed to process all this information. It was so fun to argue with her, especially since she had no substantial reason to despise chocolate. She screwed up her face, squinted her eyes, and thought of another excuse, one anyone would gladly refute. Chocolate is…horrible for my complexion. Chocolate is rock solid. Chocolate samplers have far too many traumatizing surprises in store for poor unsuspecting consumers… Chocolate is too delicious for my acutely sensitive taste buds. These musings were interrupted when, after looking around, she finally thought of another reason: “It is the epitome of Valentine’s Day and a source of revenue for companies. What about us unfortunate, exploited singles?”

There was a smile, but not on her part. The cards surrounding her must have proved inspirational indeed. Technically, chocolate had nothing to do with sweethearts. A person cannot blame chocolate for being associated with said holiday for the companies’ selfish purposes. And do not forget Sweetest Day, that Hallmark holiday (which actually was observed by Midwestern states alone), a great form of financial endorsement. Upon further consideration, it seemed to be a trend that this society associated confections with holidays. Candy canes for Christmas… Halloween candy corn… Easter jelly beans (do not recall an Easter Rabbit being present at the resurrection of Jesus, though it could be possible). Nor did chocolate originate from Hershey, Pennsylvania, or the Alps of Switzerland. It, chocolate, was actually derived from the cacao bean of South American and Aztec culture epochs ago. The conquistadors of yesteryears probably had rounds of chocolate malt before conquering Montezuma. The soothsayers of Aztec civilizations could not have possibly predicted the financial success of xocolatl. Had they known, chocolate would probably not have been as readily available as it was today, or used as a form of currency in those days of old.

She finally had it; the perfect reason not to love chocolate. Why chocolate was such a blight on modern civilization. Her eyes lit up with a maniacal glint and she nearly cackled when she declared, “It makes me fat.”

Stunned silence ensued…then along came the counterargument. So this was a reason, now? That, darling, was something called, “over indulgence” and was a sign that secretly, you did like chocolate, though refused to admit it. As a matter of fact, eating too much of most any food (other than celery) would cause weight gain. Plus, a healthy paunch was considered a symbol for prosperity in many foreign nations and what better way than to eat chocolate, a derivative of Theobroma cacao, the “food of the gods?” Chocolate was actually healthy, contrary to most beliefs, because a certain chemical Tryptophan, an amino acid, helped calm the mind and relieve anxiety. Any person would find that beneficial. And dark chocolate had even been scientifically proven to reduce heart attacks. A rather admirable feat, all things considered. So she could not say that chocolate was unhealthy…perhaps that was why chocolate was often used to sooth the savage beast.

She lost. It was quite apparent in the lackluster gaze she cast toward the untouched Godiva chocolate box. It seemed to almost taunt her, glinting in its golden way, mere inches from her manicured fingertips. Ah…bliss. Godiva even offers live assistance for those who cannot decide which chocolates are best. What other conceivable argument could she possibly have? But alas, the final blow, and it was painful: “…it’s a nasty color.”

...pathetic refute, child.