Watch me and yuh Cupid.
Now I haven't ranted about Valentine's Day for a while.
In fact, I'd kinda forgot about the whole thing, and every time the season came around it just kind of went flying by. But somewhere in January, a Facebook friend posted one of those games that predicts things about your life based on answers you give. I blame myself for this, but I clicked on the one that predicts at what age you'll get married. After answering the questions (truthfully, I think) it said my wedding age is 34. Only problem with that is, God willing, I'll be 34 in May. So, clearly, by May 2016 I'll be 35.
This means I've got a little more than a year to (a) meet my dream girl; (b) get her to like, then love me; (c) plan the wedding, and then of course, (d) walk down the aisle.
Now, I don't really work well under pressure and I also don't do things half-baked. So I'm going to need some help if I'm going to pull this off. Mi not using dem online sumting deh, so Cupid, step forward. Don't frown! Look yah man, a nearly five years now mi nuh hassle you. All delete yuh number! So you must can do something fi me this year. And if you can't, Cupid, I will terminate you, expeditiously!
called a truce
I have to point out that Cupid and I were never friends, but we called a truce some years ago. But good feud always gets rekindled at some point. Now, mind you, the feud between Cupid and I has always been one-sided. I hate his guts, he thinks I'm no different from any other lonely man walking the Earth like a hobbit. We've agreed to disagree on why certain things aren't working out for me. I even cut him some slack about five years ago when I suggested humans should take full blame for any lack of love in their lives.
But that was then; this is now. Love's arrows a fly like bullets from a Gatling, and yet none nah ketch me. My dandy shandy skills are quite rusty at this point, so even if I wanted to jump out of the way I couldn't. So, like Capleton says in one of the songs in his heyday "string dem up and hang dem up alive". That is what I'm going to do to Cupid, hang up this bow and arrow-carrying, diaper-wearing clown by his wings! So, I am sending out the warning from early. If Cupid thinks he can dodge me like robot taxis dodge traffic police, he has another think coming. A downtown mi work, mi know people.
And by the way, if he fails and goes into hiding or should I say try to go into hiding, anybody who harbours him will answer to me. Done talk!
• Tell me where Cupid is at email@example.com