He's 30 percent cocoa solids and he's MINE!

"He's thirty percent cocoa solids, and he's MINE !"

I went to University, I know how to laugh at men's jokes and touch
their biceps in a flirtatiously admiring way, I have opinions (though
not too strong) about movies and music and books. I own a Sony
Playstation (One AND Two) and I've been told I'm good in bed, even by
people who don't like me any more.

"One thing I'll miss about you is the sex, " men have said, while
collecting a pile of CD's from my house and forgetting their white
T-shirts that I have hidden under my pillow - men's T-shirts being so
much better to wear whilst eating pizza and watching trashy
television.

So, I was never really expecting to be a person who sent away for a
mail order date.

Things I have sent away for in the past and been disappointed by :-
Seamonkeys (they don't really look like seahorse princes and
princesses, they look like muddy brown shrimp) X-ray glasses (the only
girl in my school ever to do so), Thriller of the month book club,
guide to improving memory (you know the one ' What was Peter's secret?'
) various attempts at Britannia, stainless steel ramikins (there are
only so many times you can cook cr?me brulee, and they're really no
good for anything else) and membership of the Johnny Hates Jazz
fanclub.

Things I have recently sent away for in the post and been content with
:- Make yourself a chocolate Lover kit.

It does exactly what it said on the tin, which was not what I was
expecting at all. I'd thought it would just be a chocolate
body-painting kit, or at best some chocolate willies. In fact, the kit
really did spell out, in clear terms how one could go about making a
lover out of chocolate. A Lover that would be caring and loyal and
witty and would love you dearly and was made out of chocolate.

I'm as cynical as the next girl, but I had the Kit, I had some time to
kill and I had no boyfriend. Why not give it a try ? The very worst
thing that could happen would be that I had a lot of chocolate to eat
up.

The Kit made it very plain in the instructions that this was not just a
bit of fun, it really did promise to make a living, breathing human
being that would be devoted to the maker. It was candid in warning that
those frightened by powers they did not understand should just reseal
the box and would be entitled to a full refund.

"Black magic?" the instructions read, "If you must, but we find Milk
Tray gives better results!"

First thing I had to do was make the mould. That was fairly easy, there
were a variety of body shapes to choose from and I picked the one I
liked. The instructions showed me how to construct a basic skeleton out
of various thin steel rods that came supplied.

The next thing was to melt some chocolate. Do you realise how much
chocolate I had to melt? How much does an average fit man weigh? How
much does a bar of chocolate weigh? Divide.

Of course, the best way to melt chocolate is with a bain marie. I don't
have one of those, so I settle for a glass bowl balanced on top of a
saucepan of boiling water. I added a little butter, just as the
instructions said, which made the melted chocolate go all glossy. I
kept melting the chocolate and emptied each batch into a washing-up
bowl, before starting on the next.

As the chocolate cooled a little, it became malleable and I was able to
place it onto the steel rods and begin shaping it, like clay. I have no
skill towards the artistic at all, so believe me when I tell you that
some form of magic was involved, because the torso I was building up
was beginning to look like either a statue of a Greek discus thrower or
a man wearing trunks in a Next directory.

(There were other various magical things I had to do, it wasn't just
melting chocolate, but the instructions were quite specific on what
sort of things might happen to my tongue if I were to go around telling
everyone how it was done.)

Once I got my man all together and shaped (having remembered earlier to
turn off the central heating), I had to give him a name and breathe
gently into his mouth.

I called him Derry and he kissed me back.

Derry was amazing. Although he was composed of largely Dairy Milk (and
some Twix, which I thought might give him more substance), he was
amazingly in touch with his emotions. He never had any difficulty in
giving me affection, sensing immediately when I needed a cuddle or a
kind word. He was funny, without ever being cruel and he liked all of
my friends and they liked him. (He didn't look as though he was made of
chocolate when he came to life, the instructions said he would only
look like chocolate when I specifically wanted him to.)

"Where DID you find him? " my friends asked.

"In a newsagent, " I said, truthfully.

Derry was never in a bad mood, never left the sink clogged up with
rice, never tried to take charge of the remote control. He always knew
exactly what to say to brighten my day and always concocted some
surprise for me when I came back from work, no matter how small. And he
was a generous and sensitive lover.

It wasn't really my fault, though I haven't thought of anyone else to
blame just yet. We were sitting on the sofa one night, Derry's arms
around me, a chilled glass of wine by my feet and I began to daydream
idly.

It was so hard to believe that Derry was actually made of chocolate.
Surely he couldn't be. Surely all that magic stuff was just some
delirium, I had gone mad for a time through lack of love and I had met
Derry and just forgotten how. He couldn't possibly really be made of
chocolate.

And he was. There he was, with fingers that were quite obviously chunks
of milk chocolate, fat and square. His skin was smooth and velvety, his
hair the same, chocolate with feathered lines drawn onto it. His
fingers were near my mouth and I just took a tiny bite.

"You've bitten my finger off ! " Derry had screamed and he was human
again, blood gushing from the stump of his left index finger.

"Sorry, "I said, "You just looked so delicious. "

Derry had no idea that he was really made of chocolate and even while
we waited in A&;E, I didn't have the heart to tell him. He thought
he was real, with memories and experiences. He didn't realise that the
memories he had were the ones I wanted my ideal boyfriend to have had -
of backpacking in Australia, of working in a school with disadvantaged
children, of loving me for as long as he could remember. Everything he
was, was just the way I had wanted him to be when I sculpted him.

The doctors didn't realise either, sewing him up and telling him he was
very lucky. They were puzzled that we hadn't been able to find the
finger.

"If you'd packed it in ice and brought it in, we could have repaired
it. "

They didn't know I'd eaten it and to his credit, Derry didn't tell
them. He moved into the spare bedroom that night and into a shared
house he found in the newspaper by the end of that week.

It had been good while it lasted. I really had loved him. It was for
the best really, that he moved out when he had. The chocolate finger I
had eaten had been the best tasting chocolate I had ever had - you know
the way chocolate can sometimes feel like love in your mouth? Well,
that chunk really did. It felt exactly like being in love and being
wildly loved.

I'm sure I would have eaten him, if he'd stayed.