Someday my prince will come

Three years ago, at the Nearly New Shop in my fair Midwestern home town, I made the finest secondhand purchase I have ever made. What is this desired article, you ask? A pair of perfect-condition Frye boots? A cozy knitted scarf? One of those '60s A-line mini-dresses you're oh so fond of? Why, none of those things can match the endless entertainment of this gem:

Here's how it works: In this box you will find a stack of 3" by 5" cards, each featuring the head shot of devastatingly good-looking Boy From The 80s. Draw three of these cards and set them face up for all to see. You now have three lily-white young men (don't worry, suburban mom! No minorities here!) looking back at you, like so:

Now pretend that you are at a rockin' high school party. Ask yourself, who would you rather ask you to dance? Bobby, Clayton, or Johnny? Secretly write your choice down on a piece of paper. Then, try and guess which Heartthrob each of your fellow players will pick (Isn't this fun already???) and secretly write down your guesses. Done? Great! Everyone discuss. You get a point for each correct guess.

OK, folks, round two. Draw two "personality" cards per Heartthrob and place them under the face cards. Now we've got a little more insight into these mystery boys:

This time, the stakes are raised. Now these budding Captains of Industry are asking you out on a date! Oh snap. Who's it gonna be? Has Bobby's love of baked goods changed your decision? Do you really want to listen to Johnny's sub-par jokes all night? Repeat picking, guessing, and discussing a la round one. One more point per correct guess.

Round three: two more personality cards, and this time he wants to go steady. (The game does not explain what "steady" entails, but I'm guessing lots of full-on tongue kissing and awkwardly saying, "I'm not ready.") Assess, choose, discuss, add points.

End of round. Repeat entire sequence. Continue to play until you are bored or have fallen into a pit of despair. At that point, add up all your points. The most perceptive lady or gentleman (the one with the most points, that is) wins.

The more you play Heartthrob, the more depressing it becomes. You gradually realize that you're not choosing from the pick of the Central Prep litter. After a while, you find yourself staring at options like this mess:

It's like an elaborate game of "Would you rather" with the gloomiest choices ever. i assume that the creators are a bunch of middle-aged, chain-smoking, G&T-drinking female Milton Bradley lifers determined to teach the bubbly little high-school chicklets who play this game a thing or two about life: that's right, kid. If he's not talking to aliens, he's walking around with his pants unzipped. That's life. That's love. Deal with it.