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ADULT HUMOR

Cupids Cry Modern Romance Minefied

Cupids Cry Modern Romance Minefied

by sinfantasy
5 min read
4.3 (3400 views)
adultfiction
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This story is written for the "Valentines Day Contest 2025" as well as "Literotica 750 Word Challenge 2025".

Fiction. Humor. Contains traces of existential dread and glitter.

Below this line are exactly 750 words:

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Valentine's Day loomed, and Cupid, the cherubic god of love, was having a meltdown. Perched on a fluffy cloud, he sighed dramatically. "This love stuff is WAY harder than those 'cishet' couples make it look," he grumbled. "They just hold hands. No exploding glitter bombs of romantic confusion."

Modern love was proving a nightmare. "Love is love" just didn't cut it anymore. "Apparently," Cupid muttered, "love now involves existential dread, pronoun declarations, and gluten intolerance or is it gluten celebration? My arrows can't tell the difference!"

His first attempt? Two handsome, artisanal candle-making men. "Perfect!" Cupid thought. One fell head over heels. The other? Craved vegan, unscented candles. "Close enough," Cupid thought, until he checked their profiles. "Pronouns: xe/xir/xirs. And allergic to beeswax," he groaned. "Strike one. And I wasted my good arrows!"

Next, two competitive dog groomers. "Fluffy heaven!" Cupid declared. One woman had a poodle-related panic attack. The other was distracted by a charismatic Bichon Frise. "Strike two," Cupid sighed. "Maybe goldfish are easier. Less allergens, fewer pronouns..." he trailed off, realizing the absurdity.

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Time for a new tactic. He conjured a dating app. "Rainbow filters! Pronoun options! Food preference! A 'kink' section that even I blushed at!" he announced. This was it!

The reviews were brutal.

"Too many unicorn hunters!" one user wailed.

"My ex, now identifies as a pangolin, keeps showing up!" another lamented.

"Can you filter out people who ironically use 'they/them' pronouns?" someone demanded.

"I keep getting matched with people whose star sign is 'Cancer rising in a dumpster fire'," complained another.

"The 'kink' section is just pictures of people knitting," someone else pointed out.

Cupid threw his hands up. "I'm a god of love!" he shrieked. "Not a tech support guru! I can barely work the celestial Wi-Fi!" He considered early retirement. Maybe become a cloud sculptor? Less stressful.

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But Cupid, ever the optimist (and with no pension), tackled his next challenge: a polyamorous relationship: a vegan, a pronoun enthusiast, and a free-spirited artist who communicated through interpretive dance. He'd even consulted a surprisingly chill relationship guru, satyr! He *thought* he understood. Multiple loves, ethically non-monogamous, everyone consenting. Easy peasy, right?

WRONG.

The vegan lectured the artist on the ethics of animal-derived paint, specifically mentioning the plight of cochineal insects. The pronoun enthusiast argued with a cloud about the correct "they/them" usage for celestial bodies, insisting on grammatical accuracy. The artist's interpretive dance about polyamory involved a lot of flailing and accidental property damage -- a shattered vase and a bruised cherub (himself).

"This is NOT what the internet promised!" Cupid wailed. "Ethical non-monogamy was supposed to be cuddle puddles and communication! Not...this performance art piece about the existential angst of a gender-fluid cactus!"

Undeterred, Cupid moved on to a trans couple. One partner, recently transitioned, was struggling with dating app profiles. "Do I put 'pre-transition' photos? It feels dishonest, but I also don't want to get catfished!" they confided. The other partner just wanted someone who understood the importance of proper binder care. Cupid, bless his heart, tried his best, but ended up accidentally setting their preferred pronouns to "fabulous/fabulously/fabulouser" on the app.

Next up: a queer couple. One was a staunch believer in the Oxford comma and spent the entire date correcting the other's grammar. The other was a meme lord whose love language was sharing ironic TikToks, specifically those featuring cats in tiny hats.

Cupid, observing from above, just threw his hands up. "This is beyond me," he muttered. "At least the pangolin ex is staying in its lane."

He considered starting a support group for overworked deities of love. "Cupid's Corner: Navigating the Minefield of Modern Romance." He'd have T-shirts. And maybe a therapist. Definitely a therapist.

But then, something shifted. The vegan and artist bonded over the nutritional value of avocados and the artistic possibilities of avocado pits. The pronoun enthusiast convinced the cloud to use "it/its," after a lively debate about cloud grammar. The trans couple found common ground in their shared frustration with societal expectations and the joy of finally feeling seen. The meme lord and the Oxford comma enthusiast discovered a shared love for obscure 80s synth-pop, specifically the works of "When in Rome." A glimmer of hope! Love was complicated. Maybe that was the point.

So, Cupid pressed on, spreading love despite the existential dread, disastrous dance performances, pronoun mishaps, and grammar-induced arguments. Love was messy, even for the love deities. After all, if a god can't handle a little pronoun confusion, who can?

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