I like chocolate.

I like it … a lot.

We’ve been seeing each other for a very long time now.

As long as I can remember, actually. And, I’m not going to lie, it’s gotten pretty serious.

Our relationship has truly been one of the greatest sources of warmth and joy, consistently, over my past 53 years and eight days, quite frankly.

Ooh, speaking of birthdays, quick shoutout to my nephew / second son Scott. Love you, kiddo.

I digress, back to my honey. You know, chocolate.

I don’t think it’s overkill to say that we are in love.

I always have and always will adore this beau. It’s the real thing.

Truth be told, I’m not entirely certain I trust anyone who doesn’t share my confection affection.

That’s right, I went there. I know it’s controversial. I’m putting myself out there by saying it. But honestly, I really feel it’s un-American to dislike chocolate, at least in some fashion or form.

Because, let’s face it, the arguably best thing about chocolate is its sheer versatility.

With so many different kinds, you have to be able to find at least one type that appeals to you. Literally.

Come on. It’s so resourceful and adaptable you know, agreeable, in a sense.

I mean, who else is there for you so unconditionally in so many ways, at so many times, in so many iterations, without question, judgment or fail? Am I right? Think about it.

There he is, helping make better all of your happiest occasions. At every holiday, birthday, celebration, commemoration.

Getting you through all your saddest situations. At every mercy meal, funeral function, breakup session.

Oh come on, Don’t pretend you didn’t comfort yourself with a half gallon of chocolate chunk Haagen Daaz after Mr. Quarterback dumped you after homecoming in high school. It happens.

Also, he may or may not have gotten me through freshman year astronomy. Eight a.m. in the college planetarium does NOT induce alertness at its most efficient form, a’ight?

And to this day, he’s pretty much there for you everywhere you turn, you know.

He’s in your cake. Your coffee. Your muffins, pancakes, breads, spreads and creamers.

He’s in your cereal, your snack mix, your pesto. OK fine, I may have slipped that last one in, and it could or could NOT be legit.

But the fact is, I love all cocoa of all kinds. Seriously. Milk. Melted. Malted.

In a shell. AS a shell.

Coated. Straight.

Powdered.

The kind mixed with fruit. Or bacon. Or oats.

Or fruit-bacon-oat bits. There’s a reason even ants and corn dogs and scorpions slather themselves in the stuff and finally become consumed.

Every kind of chocolate is good. Except the kind that has like zero color or flavor. Or any form that’s mixed with coconut. That’s just gross. #SorryMa

I love a big old hunk of milk chocolate smashed between two thick pieces of Italian bread.

Pop used to let us eat that every Easter — a chocolate sandwich. #NotSorryPop

I think it might be one of the most unifying forces on the third rock, actually.

It’s something of a global panacea, methinks. If only we could somehow get the COVID-19 vaccine converted into a chocolate bar, all would be right with the world again, no?

In fact, if chocolate was a person, it’d be, like, Mother Teresa.

Or, you know, The pope. Somebody everybody likes.

Um, like Betty White. Or Tony Bennett.

I like dark chocolate the most.

But today, let’s all agree to enjoy some in the shape of bunny ears, multicolored Easter eggs, steepled crosses, Passover crackle cakes.

Fine, eat a white chocolate tulip, even, if that’s what your little holiday heart desires. Blech.

Buona Pasqua, everyone!

• Kimerer is a columnist with a thing for chocolate. Whisper sweet nothings at www.patriciakimerer.com.