Incoming Crush

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Cupid, the chubby deity of love and lust with serious mommy and relationship issues, is mercurial at best, cruel at worst. Hate your ex? Probably his fault for making you fall for them in the first place. Don't bother ducking. You can't.

Incoming Crush the story

The turning point came during a particularly nasty couples' therapy session in the late 1990s. Cupid had been sitting outside Dr. Philomena's office, invisible and nursing his third espresso of the day, when he overheard yet another heartbroken couple blame their toxic relationship on "love at first sight." That was the last straw. For millennia, he'd been portrayed as this cherubic little angel, all soft curves and innocent giggles, shooting magic arrows while floating around on tiny wings. But the reality? Love wasn't gentle. Love was a heavyweight championship bout where both fighters ended up bloody, and he was tired of pretending otherwise. That night, he traded his delicate bow and arrow for something with more honest impact – a boxing glove that could deliver emotional devastation at supersonic speeds.

His mother Venus wasn't exactly thrilled with the career pivot. "Darling, you can't just punch people into falling in love," she'd argued during their weekly family dinner, which had devolved into its usual screaming match about boundaries and expectations. But Cupid had done his research – he'd been studying WWE matches, boxing legends, and the raw, unapologetic violence of contact sports. This wasn't about brutality; it was about authenticity. Love hurts. Love leaves bruises. Love knocks you flat on your ass when you least expect it. His new method was simply more honest advertising. Plus, the wings gave him excellent aerial maneuverability for surprise attacks, and his naturally stocky build turned out to be perfect for delivering maximum emotional impact.

Now, soaring through the mortal realm with the grace of a flying linebacker, Cupid had embraced his true calling as Love's enforcer. No more of this "gentle flutter of romance" nonsense – when he spotted his targets, he came in fast and hit hard. The boxing glove wasn't just for show; it was precision-engineered to deliver exactly the right amount of romantic chaos. A light tap might inspire a workplace crush that leads to awkward elevator encounters. A solid hit could spark the kind of passionate obsession that results in terrible poetry and drunk texting at 3 AM. And his signature knockout punch? That was reserved for the really dramatic love stories – the ones that would end in either marriage or restraining orders, with very little middle ground. As he liked to tell his therapist, "I don't create love stories anymore. I create love disasters. At least now nobody can say I false advertised."Write your text here...