Hershey's Kiss of Death

I got the most inspirational call the other night from one of my oldest friends, Julia. I mean oldest literally. She is in her late-60s.
She called me to update me on a mild romantic saga she had been engaged in the last time we spoke. She is a little in love with an international playboy that she met through her job. During their last meeting, he told her how much he enjoyed American candy, particularly Hershey's Kisses. She then did something that I know for sure that none of my 30-something friends would have had the guts to do: she sent a box of $300 worth of chocolate kisses to Africa!
"What?" I asked. I had been lying down and sat straight up. Talk about a bold move! Not only was she opening the door for him to think she was nuts, but the shipping from Atlanta to Ethiopia had to have been steep!
Once he received the box, he wrote her a handwritten, heartfelt letter about how he loved the candy and thought it was the nicest jester.
This story was amazing to me. Out of all of the relationship rules, I would have thought that sending a man an unsolicited box of candy overseas would be the Hershey Kiss of death! It's such an honest, heart-on-your-sleeve move.
I don't have that much dating experience, but from what I have seen and experienced, honesty has always been treated like the enemy of love. You can't tell a guy you love him first. That is the cardinal rule. You have to look unbothered when you see your ex with his new girl, even when you want to cry.
However, I was feeling inspired by Julia and her huge set of lady balls. It made me want to slide into the DM of my Sigma crush. Let's call him Blue Wave.
A couple of years ago I wrote him a poem. I read it to Gia Tortilla and she told me this exactly, "Don't ever send this to him. Ever. When you feel like you want to, send it to me and I will respond like I am him."
But if Julia has taught us anything, it's that honesty could, in fact, be the best policy. Late one night, I sat in the dark and began to type a line of the poem:

Asked the vixen of her prey:

Where do you want me to 

touch you?

Said the prey to the vixen:

touch me where you touch yourself. 

I could hear Gia Tortilla screaming in my ear, so I erased the message immediately. I am not nearly as brave as Julia. Plus, I wasn't sure how Blue Wave would feel about my little poem. It's way too honest.