He looked into her eyes and said, "I love you. I've always loved you. Since the moment I saw you there from across the room, I knew I would love you forever."
"Oh," she said, "I know it. I could see it in your eyes."
"So will you buy a vacuum cleaner?" he asked, rakishly.
"Of Course, darling, Of Course!"

Two weeks later, it arrived at the house in a flurry of packing material and invoices. She never saw him again, but thought of him every time she cleaned the living room drapes with the optional steamer attachment he had included at half price.
Love. It is the glue that makes commerce run like dust in the winds of fate that changes like a prom date in June, the summer of innocence lost.

Whatever.