I knew this was going to happen when I published that anon who wanted to know about love potion doses. I did it anyway, because they were an anon and what would you rather, that anon not know how to safely give their crush enough cinnamon formulation to work but not so much that he sleeps for a week? I got a lot of crap about it, including from people who I know for a fact spout harm-reduction platitudes about everything from heroin to black-arts witchcraft but canât bear that I admit to knowing anything about titrating cinnamon formulation. Itâs not even technically fucking illegal to brew, possess, share, or consume! (But be extra careful with potions if youâre black or Latinx, obviously, like I told anon, because for some reason some cops like to arrest people for things that arenât illegal.)
So, since thatâs already exploded, letâs go the whole nine yards: Iâm in a love-potion sustained relationship and I want the stigma to stop.
Because itâs not the way youâre thinking, because youâre all hardline anti-potioners who hear âloveâ and think âlobotomyâ. Iâm the one drinking them, not my girlfriend. (Itâs not cinnamon, if youâre curious. We use a slight variation on the infamous Grenadine Kisses, with a few ingredients swapped for my allergies. My girlfriend was so scared for me when I got hives after the first dose, but itâs easy to substitute the witch wort.)
Do I sound like I donât know whatâs going on, to you? Like Iâm not lucid? Because seriously, screaming follower contingent, if this is rape pour me another glass of rape, thatâs the stuff. I know she dosed me. (Longer ago than the statute of limitations for magically tampering with peopleâs food or drink without their knowledge, nyah.) I know I wouldnât stay, at least not happily, if I was off the potion. I do most of the brewing myself now! The last time my girlfriend had to lift a finger to keep me in love with her was when I asked her to pick up eggs, bread, strawberries, my favorite tea, and speckled false-daisy! Iâm with her because I want to be.
Hereâs what happens if I miss a dose - Iâve never done this on purpose, and youâll see why in a minute, but Iâve spilled tea into a batch a couple times without noticing and it wrecks it. The overlap period goes by and I get anxious and depressed and lonely because Iâm one of those people who isnât happy when Iâm not in love. I start thinking about going to crash with my parents to think things over without worrying about accidentally upsetting my girlfriend by acting âoffâ. Then I remember that my dad hits me if I hang around him for more than a couple hours, so I canât do that.
I think about just straight-up leaving, maybe going to one of those patronizing potion victim shelters. Let me tell you, that doesnât sound any more appealing sober. Think about how much fun you would have as a guest at one of those fucking institutions and thatâs how I feel - off my potion. Itâs less appealing when everythingâs normal.
And then, just when Iâm starting to think âmaybe I can afford a place on my ownâ, it occurs to me that my girlfriend loves me - like, this is why she dosed me! She loves me! Sheâs not a fucking psychopath, she isnât keeping me to perform sinister medical experiments, sheâs in love! - and I could just stay, this is not a stupid goddamn Disney movie where as soon as Iâm no longer ensorcelled I need to go fall into the arms of some schlub whose principal virtue is not wanting me quite that much. I could stay with her even if speckled false-daisy went extinct (I saw a protest sign outside an apothecary the other day, âdown with fake daisy up with real daisyâ, like it has no other uses, I hope he loses his hair and needs fucking false-daisy).
I might like her plenty even without ever drinking so much as a tablespoon (I donât actually know, she was too shy to talk to me before she slipped me my first batch). Problem is, off my potion Iâm not attracted to girls. (Hence first batch. Sheâs told me a dozen times she would have worked up the nerve to say something if she didnât know for sure Iâd only have to let her down.)
So if I stay and I donât have my Grenadine Kisses Iâm not going to have any fun with the regular kisses. The potionâs there so I can have a great, sexy relationship with somebody who loves me to bits and treats me well. So that I can do this without being tempted to use her for material security without bringing anything to the relationship. So that I donât have to fling myself out into the world, caught between a rat race Iâve never been equipped for and a joke of a social support system that thinks the last three years of my phenomenal relationship have been âRape: A Rape Storyâ, by Rapey McRape.
So I drink my potion, once a week, clockwork. Itâs yummy. It makes my girlfriend the most fantastic, delectable, adorable, sweet, endearing, and hot-as-fuck human being to ever walk the Earth. Youâd fucking kill to shack up with somebody who seemed like that to you if youâd ever met one. The potion makes my life awesome. If your ethics are against people having awesome lives then your ethics can go die alone in a hole. Stop fucking harassing people for wanting love in their lives and needing to get it out of a bottle, we canât all be flawless social butterfly paragons like you (screaming at somebody who you identify as a victim by your own lights: total flawless social butterfly paragon behavior, you will never go home to a cold bed with that attitude.)
Insults to my divine beloved girlfriend will get you blocked. Other than that, guess Iâm âoutâ, now, ask me your stupid questions.
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