By Staff Writer Tavish Mohanti
Do you smell that? The sweet scent of Hallmark greeting cards, discount chocolate, and plastic roses. That’s right baby, lovin’ is in the air, and another Valentine’s Day is upon us. Searching for love? Desperate for some sweet ol’ passion? Dying for a night of romance? Call 1-800-FINDMELOVE because, honey, Cupid McLovin’ is in the house, and I’m ready to make some matches!
Okay, almost ready. Would you quit looking at me like that? Matchmaking isn’t as easy as you think, buddy. It takes months of meticulous calculations and incredibly precise metrics and hours of spy work, recon, and careful stalking. I have to collect every little piece of information on my subjects to ensure that my matches have a 100% success rate. Do they have an innie or an outie? What color did they paint their bathroom walls? Do they have an electric toothbrush? These are just some of the essential questions I ask myself to get a glimpse into their lives. They never suspect a thing because I’m a baby angel, and who doesn’t love babies? But, hey folks, that’s what really sets me apart from the run-of-the-mill dating scene on apps like Tinder or Bumble. I don’t see them putting in the effort or time to carefully canvas you. That’s right, I provide quality care for all my customers.
It’s time for our first subjects. Trent and Andrew. Trent loves his pet rock, Frank Sinatra, and Andrew knows all the lyrics to Britney Spears’ “Toxic” by heart. Perfect match. Don’t doubt me. I’m a professional, been doin’ this for thousands of years, so stay in your lane. The two are just minding their own business — little do they know that I am about to rain down my arrows of love. Pew. Pew. Pew. Yes, the sound effects are necessary. And would you look at that?
You can practically hear their hearts exploding with love. Oh, look, now they’re holding hands. That, my friend, is what carnal desire looks like; soak it in, because this kind of match only happens once in a couple of lifetimes.
Wow, I’m good. Feast your eyes because this right here is the work of a matchmaking master. I’m the baddest baby in town.
Up next, we have Tina and George. These two lovebirds have been best friends for years; I just need to expedite the process a little bit. In exactly three seconds, George is going to find the Valentine I put in his backpack from Tina, and he’s going to read the haiku I wrote for him:
My sweet googoo bear
My lil’ heart you did ensnare
No one can compare
I don’t mean to stare
But, I’d buy you a lawn chair
And lots of health care
Yes, yes, I know. I’m a flying baby with excellent poetry skills. It’s not my fault I’m so talented. Sue me!
My last two matches have gone smashingly. But, this one is going to be a challenge. Meet Philip Frank Jr. III, a distant cousin of Meghan Markle, so he’s basically royalty. And, drumroll please, Charcuterie Von Tinkle, heir to Von Tinkle Toilets. These two are a match made in heaven. But, Charcuterie’s heart was broken in the fourth grade by a Walmart-version Justin Bieber, so she no longer believes in love. This is going to take some effort, but hey, I’m not afraid to work it. That’s my middle name – Cupid “Work It” McLovin’.
Alright, Charcuterie likes understated declarations of love and simple gestures. So, I ordered 600 pink flamingos and a custom ice sculpture of Philip and Charcuterie together. Then, I realized that wasn’t enough. So, I called Beyonce (who I have on speed dial, by the way), and she is going to serenade the two with “Single Ladies” as a skywriter emblazons the message “You’re no longer a single lady” into the air.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for subtleties.
So… it didn’t go as planned. Charcuterie was not pleased. But, hey, it wasn’t my fault. The flamingos weren’t cooperating, and the skywriter messed up. So, Charcuterie was just standing there, covered in flamingo feathers, in a puddle of melted ice sculptures, looking up at “you’re a single lady” in big letters. Yeah, I don’t know if her heart can recover from that. But, that doesn’t mean that this boss baby isn’t going to try.
I got it! Or, at least, I thought I got it. I mean, what is more romantic than tripping and falling into your lover’s arms and being swept off your feet? Nothing!
But, when I pushed Charcuterie into oncoming traffic so that Philip could save her, she was not happy. She doesn’t understand that love takes sacrifice.
Now, I have a bill for fifteen stitches at Urgent Care and a very angry toilet industry mogul to deal with.
Hold on, I need to call my lawyer because I’m not sure what the legality is for suing a baby god.
Well, I guess love isn’t real, and romance is really dead, because McLovin’ never fails. If you want to see real love, go watch the Bachelor or something. I can’t help you.
I’m sorry; I get like this when I forget to take my afternoon nappy time.
Alright, well, I guess this is good-bye. If you ever need any help, just give me a call or shoot me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Why don’t I send us off with another poem? Yeah, you’d love that.
My name is Cupid
I’m the best undisputed
Love is so humid
Cover graphic by Staff Writer Nishi Bhagat