You buy yourself a box of chocolates because you've got one of "those" cravings. It's a deluxe box full of unlabeled surprises, some of them good, some of them not so good, but it doesn't matter. All you know is Sin City is a damn good movie, and a Snickers bar isn't going to be enough to curve your need for nutty nouget. You've got your milk chocolates and your dark chocolates. Some of them are solid with nuts or rice while most of them are filled with various creamy centers. Sometimes you're cautious and split the pieces before eating them, other times you're feeling bold and just pop one in without checking. Sometimes you get the chewy caramels and rose creams you love so much, other times you're spitting out those yucky cherry ones that have you eating bread to get that taste off your tongue. It's just you and your chocolates, sitting in your warm bed in the middle of the night with a good movie on TV, and it's then you realize, while going over the day's events, that you'll never understand men. Never.
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