Nuclear Fire, a Giant Lotso, and a Heart Three Sizes Too Big: How a Woman with Disney Princess Eyes Brought About the Collapse of Western Civilization — An Essay on Falling in Love

No opening quip. This piece is serious. I'm very glad and very grateful to you, whoever you are, for reading this, because the worst has happened. It's a tragedy. A disaster. An absolute fucking mess.

I am done. We are done. Call the Minuteman and launch the missiles. Send them all and turn the Earth into a radioactive wasteland. We all feared this day of days would come, and now that it has, only the eternal nuclear night can redeem us from the horror, the abject terror of finding out that the dog days are just about to begin. This blog as we know it, this sacred sanctum of sarcasm and dark humour and crass sexual jokes, is done. The good times? Done. The fun? Over. It's so, so, so, so, so, so, so over I can't even.

I have terrible news for you all. Terrible. Horrible. Now only our own brave hearts can help us, because this is a sign of the times. This is it. I... am... in love.

As I said, a tragedy. This is very bad for everyone. For each and every one of the people who read my pieces and enjoy my bitter sarcasm? Obviously. For me? Totally. But for her? It's a disaster...

When you become close to me, you roll a D3. You may get the very fun pervert, the amazing romantic, or the stupidly in-love doofus. She rolled the dice and got... fucking doofus. I'm so sorry, darling.

I want to hug her after a long day, smell her hair, tell her how pretty her eyes are, and give her little kisses while she falls asleep. Puaj. It's disgusting. I disgust myself.

I'm seriously considering joining the Ukrainian Foreign Legion. Do some good. Muse about what man can do to man and let the reality of combat wash away the disgusting, sickening pink hue the world has taken on of late. Please, someone shoot me.

This? This could have been wonderful... I could be writing her something nice, something... interesting. Something like... "I want to hog-tie you to the bed, whip you like the bad, bad, bad girl you are, and then tickle you while you're defenceless." Or something... I don't know, normal. I could be writing detailed descriptions of how I would ritually murder her, field-dress her, cook her, and then proceed to devour her, every single part of her... Or write a very sexy story about hunting her for sport. You know, normal interpersonal stuff... Instead, I just wrote a disgusting little message that went something like, "I would love to fix every single problem in the world and dedicate each solution to you. I love you."

And the shyness... What's with that? I am not shy. A little detached? Yeah. Kinda weird? You bet. Sort of a freak? Exactly! But shy? I've never been shy... But apparently, she has Disney Princess Eyes, which means I feel too big and too small when I'm with her. My trilingual self can't speak properly and needs to rant, and I feel this absurd need to... Listen to this, because it's horrible... Copy out poetry (and not cursed poetry either) for her. We're talking Neruda, not Rimbaud here, on pretty, elegant parchment, and use a custom wax seal I had made just to close her birthday gift and make it a really official-looking thing.

If everything were all right, if the world made sense, this could have been a sensible gift like... I don't know, a ball gag, a sex toy, and a generous amount of lube? I don't know what's wrong with me. And I don't like it.

Not too long ago, I filled, FILLED, I tell you, her room with flowers and a huge Lotso plushie from Toy Story. Yes, yes, you're disgusted. So am I. This... This should never have happened. Just a month ago, I was planning to take her to a strip club, buy her a lap dance, and just enjoy the mood because she was curious about it, and I am generally curious about her, so the whole thing sounded like fun times. Now? I want to cook her a perfect homemade dinner, present every dish like I'm fucking Gordon Ramsay instead of the idiot sandwich, and watch her, half hopeful, half scared, wishing she'll like it, silently determined to eradicate the crop that dares, DARES, to be imperfect in her presence. Are you listening, wheat? And you, tomatoes? If something goes wrong, it's all-out biological warfare.

So yeah, it's bad. This is very bad. But it made me think: What does it mean, exactly? Falling in love?

This is a deeply personal question, obviously, but what am I supposed to do? It should probably involve some kissing, but when I look at her for too long, my bones turn into gelatin and I become extremely conscious of the length of my spine... Like, extremely. And her skin is so soft. So, yeah. Please, someone nuke my country, cleanse this disgusting mess with nuclear fire before I find a bigger Lotso and make an even bigger fool of myself. Moving on, it seems that my internal monologue has been replaced by some sort of romcom director, and everything looks so... pretty of late. So yeah, I really should go to war. Some violence is exactly what I need to get my brain working again.

Love is a very interesting emotion. It's hard to separate from OCD, according to social media, and who would know more, right? And it has this tendency to make things just... bearable? Like, when you love someone, you get this need to roll in sync with them, so their issues become infinitely less apparent and issue-y?

I think everyone, especially me, is waiting for some interesting reflection about love, but all of us will be disappointed, especially me. Speaking about love from inside it is like narrating a dream before waking up. We'll have to wait until the thing ends, and then a lot of interesting lessons will be learned, and I'll probably write a lot of very tasteful things about it, as is my style.

In the end, love is like chocolate and should be understood that way. You can offer your chocolate to someone, and they may take it or not. Whatever happens won't change your worth. And have you ever eaten chocolate under duress? Love should be enjoyed in complete freedom. Love should bring forth more freedom.

One should probably take love head-on, like taxes, or a cancer diagnosis, or the need to join the Foreign Legion for the defence of Ukraine, even if being in love is a particularly vulnerable position in which you are opening your whole heart to someone else, and you can definitely get hurt because suddenly "I don't care" and "I don't give a crap" and "It doesn't matter" have exceptions. And exceptions are horrible, devilish things that we hate. We hate them. We hate all of this. Someone nuke me already. It's been like eight hours since I last saw her, and I am starting to think that I just imagined she existed because no being this amazing could exist, damn it!

So, here we are: bad news. What's gonna happen to me? I don't know. For now, my happiness, my freedom, and a lot of my best and most of my worst impulses are tightly tied to someone else. I've come to discover that "I love you and I want to be with you" is the scariest sentence in all of spoken language, and it's even worse because right now, as I write this, I don't even know what "being with you" means. She doesn't need or want a boyfriend, and I like to keep things casual. Marriage? Absolutely not casual. If we can find a way to hang out a lot, hold hands, and maybe get her laughing at my jokes, we're in business! What business? The complete humiliation of my former self.

Dude, I feel like the fucking Grinch. These feelings are horrible, HORRIBLE, I TELL YOU! And my heart has grown three sizes in like two days. Fucking hack of a surgeon left a hole where my lung used to be, and now this has happened. A disaster.

What am I gonna do? I don't know. What am I gonna make? A fool of myself. I'm gonna finish this, post it, and then go to my kitchen, cook a beautiful breakfast for this treasure of a being, and probably add a little stolen flower from my morning dog walk. I will hate every single second of it because that stupid voice in my head will keep on telling me that nothing is pretty enough or tasty enough for her. Not breakfast, and definitely not flowers, because she's the prettiest flower of them all.

That's it. I'm running away. This is ridiculous. How did this happen? HOW?

Well, this is it, my friends. It's been great while it lasted. This will probably turn into a romantic poetry space or something. It's with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to you all on this, our day of days. If someone knows a good cardiologist, please leave me the number, because her lips are so pretty, so soft, and look so sweet that I will probably have a heart attack if I kiss her. And Takotsubo cardiomyopathy if I don't.

As I said... no easy answers in this. WHY, GOD, WHY? Why did this happen? I've been bad, selfish, arrogant, proud, self-contained, solitary, and unwise, and now this? Is this a punishment?

Well, where does this all end? Where it began: in her. I will read this to her and watch her every reaction because my writing is never better than when I lay it at her feet. Oh, the horror, the humiliation! What's my poor mother gonna think? She will be so ashamed. So ashamed.

I kinda think this tragedy needs to end in prayer. Let's take a page out of Patton's book ("Patton's Weather Prayer, 1944"):

Almighty and most merciful Father, I humbly beseech Thee, of Thy great goodness, to restrain these immoderate feelings with which I have had to contend.

Grant me a clear mind and fast legs to run away. Graciously hearken to me as a fool in love who calls upon Thee, that, armed with Thy power, she may like this piece, the excessive love, and the huge crush I have on her, and establish, maybe, a tiny kingdom of love among men and nations. And please, when heartbreak comes, make it so light it barely hurts or so terrible it ends me in a second. Amen.

Note: The world has officially ended. Please direct all complaints, unhinged romantic poetry, and requests for nuclear winter to the appropriate authorities.

PS: This was fun and all, but war is hell. Like, way worse than falling in love. Please consider donating some money, leftover explosives, ball bearings, nails, screws, motorcycle chains, nukes, and really anything with ouchy potential you may have lying around to the brave defenders of Ukraine. Take a look at https://u24.gov.ua/