I immediately decided I had to have one, but they were all out. I figured everyone had wanted to try one because they were new (and beautiful, duh) but that I would be able to try one upon my next visit. Wrong. Five times in a row I ordered one only to hear the same, tedious chorus: "Sorry, we're out of the birthday cake pop, but we have the rocky road and tiramisu!" No, curses! Why do you think the other two flavors remained untouched, unloved? Because they were lesser, that's why. No, I would not settle. I eventually figured I must live in an area with a particularly high demand for pink, childish candy so when I was in Pennsylvania I stopped at a Starbucks and ordered one. "Sorry, our shipment doesn't come in until Tuesday." This was Monday. At this point it was simply fact: I was, in fact, jinxed. They did, unsurprisingly, have rocky road and tiramisu.
About the tenth unsuccessful try, one Starbucks employee even took pity upon me and gave me a rocky road for free. It was tasty, but I knew, deep in my heart, it could never match the perfection of the devious and taunting birthday cake pop.
At long, long last, I arrive at Starbucks sometime in the afternoon. Rejected so many times at this point, I only expect further failure and sorrow. But I knew I had to keep trying. So I ordered my drink and a birthday cake pop. Rather than the familiar "we only have rocky road and tiramisu", instead I'm greeted by the sweet, sweet song of success: "Will that be all for you today?" All for me today?! My day has just been whole and meaningful! Yes, I was well satisfied with my order. There was no need to add trivial goods that would only pale in comparison to my gorgeous birthday cake pop. There was no match: I had found love.