The cottage industry that is red roses, red lingerie, red hearts and chocolate, chocolate, chocolate always manages to dry-heave deep pangs of regret, of missed opportunity, of the special one that got away. So young, so stupid, so inexperienced back then as to not pool any and maybe even borrowed resources to start up what should have been "Cads and Heels," a convenience store for dysfunctional romantics desperately in need of special last-minute gifts. A public service, if you will, open twenty-four hours, seven days a week and especially on holidays. Those "in the doghouse" could stop by the drive-up menu to order any variety of flowers, stuffed animals, confectionaries, perfumes and of course, jewelry, all at jacked-up prices.
Or my express ticket to early retirement. It struck, like all brilliant ideas do, straight out of necessity, more than likely years ago, to be truthful, probably after yet another forgotten anniversary or birthday or equally important date. The business of love, or more appropriately, the racket of heartache costs a small fortune. Market research proves this group of lost souls as target demographic. Just ask any guy who find themselves in hot water because of faulty memory capacity. Love is expensive and the price of an elevator ride back to the penthouse means forking out some deniro. Only in America can such a dumb idea but the perfect business scheme actually work. But naturally nothing ever materialized. No prospectus, no potential investors, no franchising opportunities, no going public, no stock options, nothing. The time then suited a better entrepreneurial moment for such a venture to exist, survive and flourish.
And now to freely advertise this pot of gold is probably copyright suicide. But ultimately what began as an idea whose time has come, an idea whose purpose is noble, somewhat belongs to every "Dear John". Besides why kick a dead horse on the ground again?