A man will never love you or treat you as well as a store. If a man doesn’t fit, you can’t exchange him seven days later for a gorgeous cashmere sweater. And a store always smells good. A store can awaken a lust for things you never even knew you needed. And when your fingers first grasp those shiny, new bags…

The speaker humorously elevates retail therapy over romantic partnership by contrasting the predictability and sensory pleasures of shopping with the messiness of human relationships. The “exchange” policy and the store’s pleasant smell become symbols of control, reassurance, and instant gratification—things a person cannot reliably provide. The passage also critiques consumer desire: stores can manufacture “needs,” seducing shoppers into wanting what they never lacked. The final image of “shiny, new bags” captures the intoxicating rush of acquisition, suggesting that the thrill is as much emotional as material. Beneath the comedy is an uneasy insight into how consumer culture can substitute for intimacy and self-soothing.