Cu-pid is stu-pid.
He doesn’t aim straight. He shoots his arrow at the one you’re not interested in, not that fine one over there whose affection you seek.
His timing is off. He shows up when he wants to, not when you want him, need him or plead for him to.
He’s silently selective. Some people he never shoots at all.
He’s blind and you need him to see.
He’s mercurial. There are two of you but only shoots one of you despite having a quiver full of arrows.
He’s mischievous – playing games with our emotions like a “gangster of love.”*
He’s reckless – slinging arrows into unsuspecting hearts, paying no attention to whether they’ve already been claimed.
He’s deaf – he doesn’t hear your entreaties (or heed them either).
Cupid does what he damn well pleases!
He’s effective – there’s no ignoring his bidding when he’s shot straight into your heart.
Cupid is frustrating and amazing, scary and oh, so necessary.
Cupid is stupid except when he’s smart, as he was one fine day, six years ago. He flung arrows at two lonely and lovely people at the same time. We’ve been loving ever since.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Check out: Cupid: A Tale of Love and Desire by Julius Lester, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt 2007
* The Joker by Steve Miller Band (1973)
I have a tattoo. It is of a heart with a banner. Cupid waits above, at the ready. The banner says “You Bastard”, and Cupid has a blow dart. I was inspired by 2 songs by a great band called The Beautiful South. It’s a comment about Cupid, not a love lost or how I feel about my partner.
Your post sums it up. But sometimes, the imperfect aim Cupid has brings us together with someone who is as imperfect as we are.
“Close your eyes, and imagine that I’m nice/Cupid’s arrow looking more like Cupid’s poison dart”
-The Beautiful South, Something That You Said
Valentine’s day–Oh what an opportunity for sadness! La petite mort, as the French say, “the little death”, thrives at the heart of this madness. On this day my heart dissolves like pieces of homemade cake in my mouth, sweet while melting, filled with memories of days and nights I’m still inviting. Each memory sheds light on the love of my life my friend. Each reveals I’ve been in love with a very special spirit’s kin— or, okay, maybe even a few of them. Whatever! But this Valentine’s day, while dwelling on memories, I bring to you an attempt to create a metaphor that may please–or simply tease. When in love days and nights are like fine wine in beautiful long-stemmed crystal glasses. For you dear memories, may each hour at its end, may each glass at its brim, be filled with goodness, sincerity and gladness.
George Edward Buggs
Happy Valentine’s Day
What a cute post is this. You have a great website and blog I shall be back for a longer visit.