Oh Cruel fate, the Lover I desire, she forsakes me

Ever has it been that love knows not its owndepth until the hour of separation.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own
depth until the hour of separation.

It started simply enough. An old acquaintance called up our hero and suggested that he consider taking us out on a date. Next there was a  flirtatious follow on Twitter. The paparazzi soon got word and the adoring masses swooned over the potential romance between the long-haired hero from Scandinavia and the club still reeling from past relationships gone awry.

A perfect union was envisioned. There was even talk of marriage. Our hero’s father was introduced to his son’s suitors. Things were going splendidly.

And then there was the cruel public break up.

Pronouncements were made about finding other fish in the sea. The unfollow button was hit. The collective hearts of the masses ached a familiar ache. The grieving process began and will undoubtedly involve significant hours of a therapy that involves translating distant languages for rumors about our next hero.

One thought on “Oh Cruel fate, the Lover I desire, she forsakes me

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