Stupid Cupid

Once upon a time there was a boy named McVie who grew up thinking that love was what he saw on television and in the movies. But then early on he fell for straight guys who couldn’t love him back the way he wanted them to, and so he got tired. Then he fell for guys who could love him back, except that they didn’t or weren’t interested or were already with someone else, and so he got even more tired. One day he decided that falling was tiring, so he kept himself above it all. He chose to fuck others up before the others could fuck his heart up. Every hook-up ended in a get-up-and-go, and being a third party was no problem for him so long as there was an escape clause (and he often invoked it by the third meeting). He hardened his heart so that no amount of falling will ever hurt him again.

And then McVie met him. He was funny and articulate, and his eyes sparkled every time he looked straight into McVie’s eyes as they talked. And despite everything, McVie thought: I could fall for him. And he did.

One day McVie entered his car, deep in thought; he had been debating with himself practically the whole day whether to tell the guy or not that he was interested in him. He was so preoccupied that only after he slammed his door shut did he realized that there was someone seated on the passenger’s side of the car. McVie squealed in surprise. It was a child. Or rather he looked like a one year-old wearing diapers. Except the child sprouted a pair of wings and a silly looking bow on his right hand.

“Hello McVie,” the child spoke, and McVie squealed again. The child’s voice was that of a grown man. “Sorry to startle you,” he continued. “I’m Cupid, and you’re my heir.”

Right there and then McVie found out that while he was not the son of this strange being sitting beside him in the car, he was the chosen one to replace Cupid once his time was up. “Each Cupid can only stay on the job for about a century. After that we have to pass on our duties—and our bow, our arrows and this almost-revealing diaper—to the next chosen one. How were you chosen? Simple. You’re the only one who remained unaffected even when hit by my arrows.”

McVie was flabbergasted. “But what about…?”

“This new guy you’re interested in?” Cupid butted in. “That happened without my help. Again, proof that I found my rightful heir.”

“Wha—?!” For the third time McVie squealed, and this time Cupid cupped his ears and winced. “Hey, can you tone down on the squealing?” he said. “It’s not becoming of a future Cupid.”

Too much info, too much info, kept running in McVie’s mind. He closed his eyes and gripped the steering wheel to keep himself steady.

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Cupid reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “There are perks to the job, you know. For one thing, you’ll live for centuries. Instead of growing older, you’ll look younger and younger every decade. Eventually you’ll always have baby-smooth skin.” McVie’s eyes widened, and Cupid laughed out loud. “C’mon, it’ll be easy, I promise,” he continued. “You’ll just get your instructions from me as to whom and where. You go there, you take aim, you shoot; nothing to it. And you don’t need to practice shooting. Those arrows fly straight and true to the target. You’ll never miss.”

As if that will make things better, McVie thought.

But then Cupid leaned forward and whispered. “Oh and one more thing,” he said, and suddenly there was an edge to his voice. “Don’t you dare think for even one nano-second to use those arrows to make your crushy-wushy fall for you. Because if you do…” and as Cupid’s voice trailed off, it was replaced by another sound.

McVie heard it first before he felt it. Suddenly the car started shaking and the lights in the basement parking blinked on and off. Car alarms went off as the earthquake crested, then slowly subsided.

To McVie’s credit, he resisted the urge to squeal.

“Very good!” Cupid patted his shoulder one last time. “Okay, I’m off! It’s about time I started enjoying this planet. I’m thinking Madagascar…” and he placed the bow and a quiver of arrows on McVie’s lap. Then he looked at McVie straight in the eye. “Don’t worry kid, this is your destiny.”

McVie blinked. Cupid was gone.

On the passenger seat was a gaudy Valentine’s card. McVie picked it up and opened it. It had two names plus the time and place. McVie blinked again. He had only an hour to get to the place.

This is your destiny. Cupid’s voice rang in McVie’s head again, but this time it sounded suspiciously like Darth Vader’s. “Looooook, I am your father,” McVie whispered to himself. Absent-mindedly he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine—and a Beatles song—roared to life; apparently, he hadn’t switched the radio off. Eleanor Rigby was playing full blast: “Aaaah, look at all the lonely people!”

McVie sighed and put the gear on first. But then a look crossed his face. “Oh really, eh?” he muttered out loud. Then he smiled.