Love's a Myth
by Eric J. Krause
"Let me tell you something. Listen up because this is important. Love doesn't exist. It's a lie developed by greeting card companies, the flower shops, and the candy industry to push product. Human beings aren’t wired to be monogamous, to spend all their time pining on a single person.
"I'd been taken into this lie myself. Her name was Stephanie Beth Donaldson. Usually I called her Steph, but when I had my groove on, she was Stephy-Beffy. Sick, right? That's the depths this so called love will drag you down to.
"I wined her, I dined her, and all that B.S. I brought her little trinkets just because and big presents on her birthdays and Christmas. And even though I didn't have a pot to piss in, I did the girl up on Valentine's Day. No one in the neighborhood had a better February 14th than Stephy-Beffy Donaldson.
"After three years of exclusive dating, I knew it was time. I was head over heels for this girl. I couldn't afford much of a ring, but managed to scrape enough together to buy her a respectable one. She accepted without hesitation as soon as I dropped to one knee. Three weeks later, she was Stephanie Beth McGee.
"Since money was tight, she got a job as a secretary to supplement our income. At first, everything was great. Not only did she bring in enough money to help us afford a house in a nicer section of town, but she still managed to get home in time to have supper on the table for me. And I don't want to brag, but our sex life was fantastic.
"After a few months, though, everything started to sour. She came home later and later each passing week. It got to the point where I had to learn to heat up my own beans and franks, and grill up my own toasted cheese sandwiches. What kind of husband should have to do that? And while she brought in more money, the fun in the bedroom dried up. She was either too tired or had a pounding headache.
"This was too much. I could deal with having to cook my own supper, but I had needs and urges. Because I quote-unquote loved this woman, I couldn't get some strange on the side, so I did what I found necessary. One afternoon, I marched over to her work and barged in. The receptionist tried to keep me out of the boss's office, but I was a man possessed.
"I'm guessing you can already see where this is going. I found my wife, Stephy-Beffy McGee, formerly Donaldson, nude on her knees in front of her pantsless boss. I gasped, he gasped, and she turned and gasped. I wish I could say that I said something witty and clever that cut them right in two, but in my grief, I could only slam the door and stumble home.
"That night she tried to explain, but I'd hear none of it. I gathered up my things and never stepped foot in that house again. I saw her only one more time, at the divorce proceedings. She tried to make everything right between us, but judging by the fancy jewelry she wore, which she'd never be able to afford on her salary, I knew she was just trying to clear her conscious.
"And that, my boy, is why I am not, nor never will be, in love. It doesn't exist. Love's a myth. I think it would do you good to remember that."
"Wait, Uncle Phil. Are you saying I shouldn't ask Melody Daniels to the 6th Grade Valentine's Mixer?"