Look, I already know what you guys want to say, so save it. You want to say: "Dude, you're a candy heart. You can't talk."
True. I'm a candy heart. I can't talk. But don't dismiss me so easily because of that.
You have no idea what it's like to be me - how hard it is to order pizza, how dull karaoke night is, how impossible it is to get a part in a play. However hard life is for you, multiply that by 500 bajillion and that's how it is for me. And that's on a GOOD day.
As for the whole "CALL ME!!" thing, well, you can likely imagine how much trouble that gets me into. It's out there for the whole world to see, and there are a lot of people in the world who I definitely don't want calling me, if you know what I mean.
Just the other day in the candy aisle at the grocery store, I spotted this orange heart a few bags down. I don't know why I noticed her, but she was eye candy öö a real piece of "SASSY." At first I'm thinking, "Yeah, she's pretty hot." I'm starting to wonder what she has to say, maybe something cool like "LET'S PLAY" or "SPANK ME." Some of them are really crazy like that.
But then she turns around and I'm like, "Yikes." She didn't do a thing for me. First off, she was wearing green-on-orange lettering, which I don't think anyone could pull off. Second, she was obviously one of those hearts who has already got her whole wedding planned out. You know, the kind that seems nice at first, but it turns out they know very well they're bound for spinsterhood and lock you down like a bear trap.
No way, those chicks cramp my style. I was born to run free, break away from the pack. No time to commit here, man; I want a sampling of the sweets before I settle down. My guy friends call me - well, they call me "CALL ME!!" But they also call me Heartbreaker. I think you can guess why.
So this heart smiles at me and I sort of turn away to pretend I didn't notice. And then she starts scooting my way. What the hell?!
And then I realize that for the past five minutes, I've been asking her to call me. And with two exclamation points too, which of course makes everyone think I'm desperate when I am definitely NOT.
And you know what she reads? "3 WISHES." Lame. Thank God I don't list my phone number. Thank God I don't own a phone.
She just sits there and looks at me for a while, because she can't talk or anything. And I'm thinking, "I'll tell you MY three wishes: 1) You go look for someone who reads 'I Like The Ugly Ones.' 2) You get to the back of the shelf because you're single-heartedly decreasing sales. 3) ... " Well, I didn't come up with a third one because she wasn't worth it, but I guarantee it would have been good.
Finally, she got the hint. The guys had a good chuckle over the whole thing. "NO WAY," said one. "R U 4 REAL?" scoffed another. "GOOD ONE," added a third.
Of course, sometimes I do wish I owned a phone. But what's the point? I'd never be able to give anyone my number; I've got no room for one.
Besides, what would I say if someone did call? "CALL ME!!"? What a sick joke. My manufacturer is constantly toying with my emotions.
Valentine's Day is so lonely for a candy heart. Don't get me wrong: I'm a true playa. No one can deny that. Still, there isn't much of a payoff in helping people express their love. At best, I'll be saved for a few hours before being eaten. At worst, February will come and go as I stay on my shelf. Before I know it, I'll be tossed out to make room for the chocolate bunnies (not that I'd want to stick around with those punks anyway).
Still ...
Oh, who am I kidding?! I love Pink Marshmallow Peep! Every day I stare at her longingly from across the aisle, my whole body aching with desire, but her unblinking caramelized eyes never catch mine. So Peep öö my dearest Peep! öö if you're reading this and you think you could ever love me back, please buy me a phone and call me. We'll take it from there. Somehow.
Sigh ... "conversation" hearts, indeed!
Sabrina Noble is a senior majoring in English and creative writing. She wishes her personal sweetheart a happy Valentine's Day, and can be reached at letters@wildcat.arizona.edu.