Geek Punditry #111: Playing Favorites With Love Stories Part Two

Ah, Valentine’s Day: the day to show your affection to the one you love, or perhaps the ones if you’re Nick Cannon or somebody. The day that we celebrate passion and romance. The day that everyone who is not, currently, in a relationship does their absolute best to ignore, because those of us who DO have cause to celebrate on this day can – admittedly – be absolutely sickening at times. And most importantly, it’s the day where we feature Part Two of “Playing Favorites With Love Stories.” Just like last week with Part One, I took to social media and asked my friends to throw out suggestions for love story categories to talk about, and this week I’m going to tackle a few more. Grab your sweetie and pull up a chair – there’s some heart-shaped excellence coming your way.

Superhero Love

Eric LeBlanc asked me for my “favorite superhero movies that are just love stories with violence.” That’s an interesting way to phrase it, particularly since a lot of traditional love stories are also “love stories with violence,” but I’m up for the challenge. I have, after all, watched a superhero movie or two in my time, and because of that I think I am uniquely qualified to declare that the best superhero love story ever to grace the silver screen is probably 1980’s Superman II.

Nothing says romance like fighting three evil prison escapees and crashing through a Coke sign.

Part of this, I concede, may be recency bias. I watched Superman II again only a few weeks ago as part of my ongoing Year of Superman project (with new posts every Wednesday – tell your friends!) so it’s still pretty fresh in my mind, but it’s perhaps my favorite depiction of the Superman/Lois Lane relationship on screen. The whole film hinges on the idea that Superman, upon having Lois finally prove his dual identity, decides that he wants to be with her and that the only way to do so is to give up his powers. As it turns out, though, super-timing was not one of his abilities. No sooner has he abdicated his super-ness than he gets his clock cleaned by a jerk in a diner and finds out – oh yeah – while he was off in the arctic circle becoming human again, General Zod and his cronies have escaped the Phantom Zone and are about to take over the world.

Much as I love the Zod stuff, the Superman and Lois relationship is the soul of this movie, and so much credit needs to go to Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder for making it work. Kidder’s fire and verve absolutely make it believable that this is a woman a man of steel would fall in love with, would be willing to sacrifice everything to be with, and that steers us into the tragedy of it all when he is forced to conclude that the world needs Superman more than Superman needs love. Your heart breaks for the both of them, even if the film kind of chickens out at the end and he uses the heretofore-unknown “super kiss” power to make her forget the whole thing. The super kiss is really the only part of the film that bothers me, but it’s not nearly enough to knock this excellent film from its perch at the top of the mountain. 

Next is perhaps an odd choice, but I’ve always been fond of Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, the musical that came about as a result of a 2008 writer’s strike. Dr. Horrible (Neil Patrick Harris) is an aspiring supervillain trying to crack into the big leagues when he finds himself falling for a girl he meets doing laundry (played flawlessly by Felicia Day). Unfortunately for him, her life is saved by his arch-enemy, the superhero Captain Hammer (Nathan Fillion), who – as heroes go – is way less Superman and way more Guy Gardner. Apropos, I know.

The supervillain musical Joker: Folie à Deux WISHES it could be.

I absolutely love this one. The songs are catchy, the three main actors are at the top of their form, and the conclusion is suitably heartbreaking. And it nicely meets Eric’s qualification of “a love story with violence.”

Not every superhero love story has to end sadly, though, although it seems like most of the really good movies do. But I don’t want to leave you utterly bereft of happy endings, so even though Eric specifically asked for movies, I’m going to throw out a comic book recommendation, one that I’ve been a fan of for many years: Thom Zahler’s delightful series Love and Capes.

Pictured: Love. Also pictured: Capes.

This story, described by Zahler as a romantic situation comedy, focuses on Abby Tennyson, a bookshop owner who is stunned, in the first issue, when she learns that her boyfriend Mark is actually the world’s most powerful superhero, the Crusader. Abby and Mark have one of the healthiest relationships in the entirety of superhero comics, and the way we watch their relationship grow and develop over the years – through dating, marriage, and parenthood – is the absolute rebuttal to any comic book writer who argues that there are no interesting stories to tell about a couple in a happy relationship. (Lookin’ – as always – as YOU, Spider-Man editorial office.) This series is a favorite of mine not only because it’s a great story (it is) but because it enjoys the rare honor of being one of the only comic books that I’ve ever discovered upon a recommendation from Erin, my own girlfriend (at the time, now wife). In fact, she and I were even guests at Mark and Abby’s wedding. No, really.

I was mostly there to check out the venue.

Platonic Love

Chance Simoncelli suggested the best “platonic” love stories. I really like this suggestion – it seems like much of the media is focused on romantic love, which is fine, but they zero in on it to the expense of every other type of relationship. It’s like the entertainment world doesn’t seem to grasp the concept that sometimes people are just friends, with no romantic connection, but that doesn’t mean their love isn’t deep and true and sincere. This is one of the reasons I hate fanfiction, if we’re being perfectly blunt.

But on rare occasions, they do manage to get it right, and share with us a deep, committed bond between two people that never indulge in any hanky-panky, and I think those stories should be celebrated. One of my favorites comes from the TV show Parks and Recreation. Nick Offerman’s Ron Swanson and Amy Poehler’s Leslie Knope couldn’t possibly be more different. Leslie is a chipper, enthusiastic-to-a-fault government employee who sees working in public service as the highest calling there is, whereas Ron is a grouchy straw Libertarian who sees all government work as inherently useless and wants nothing more than for everybody to leave him alone. Somehow, they’re the best of friends. Their devotion to one another is so powerful that in the final season of the show, after a time jump, the two of them have a wedge driven between them and it’s as horrifying and shocking as it would have been had either of them broken up with their respective spouses. The episode where the two of them reconnect and reconcile their differences is one of the most beautiful and sweetest in the entire series, as their bonds are once again forged over a mutual affection, respect, and a love for breakfast foods.

On any given day, I am both of these people.

There’s also a great example from the show Friends. First of all, I think it’s time we all admit that, in terms of friendship, Joey Tribbiani was the MVP of that show. The whole thesis of the series is that these six people are one another’s found family, but the level of loyalty and devotion that Matt LeBlanc’s character shows to each of the other five at various points in the series is above and beyond, and I don’t know if he gets enough credit for that. The late-seasons dalliance with Rachel aside (we can all agree that was Friends’ worst plotline, right?), he is the staunchest of the group.

And the best such relationship, I think, is the one he has with Lisa Kudrow’s Phoebe. With the other four pairing off and going through assorted romantic shenanigans of one sort or another for the entire run of the series, these two are simply friends through thick and thin. There were occasional episodes where we saw some flirtatious banter between them, and once in a while they would allude to the notion of them hooking up somewhere down the line, but at no point does it ever come across as a serious intention. Frankly, although they both enjoy playing the game with one another, I think Joey and Phoebe love each other TOO much to ever get physical, because they already know their relationship is perfect the way it is. In fact, she may be the one woman on the entire planet that Joey feels that way about, and if that’s not special I don’t know what is.

Somehow the womanizer and the former mugger were the wholesome, beating heart of the show.

I also need to give a little credit to Disney here. True, they have done as much to push romantic love as being the apex of a relationship as any studio on the planet, but there was one time they deliberately steered away from that and they nailed it, and I of course am talking about Frozen. It’s a Disney Princess movie from the outset and, as such, people expect it to follow the usual tropes of a Disney Princess movie, including the damsel in distress and the handsome prince. And for much of the film it does use these tropes, including Anna being afflicted by an errant piece of magic that threatens to turn her into ice if the spell is not broken by an act of true love. 

I know it’s fashionable to hate on Frozen and call it overrated now, and I’ll be the first to admit that the hype train it rode for many years went a lot farther than it probably should, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that the filmmakers were brilliant in how they subverted the expectations of a Princess movie. While Anna is looking for “true love” to cure her, her handsome prince reveals himself to be an opportunistic villain who was only planning to marry her to move himself into position to become king. If she dies, all the better for him. In the end, though, Anna IS saved by an act of true love: not by her false fiance Hans, nor even from the stout-hearted Kristoff, whose love for Anna IS pure. Anna is saved by her sister Elsa, stepping in to defeat Hans at the last second and breaking her own spell. The love between the two sisters is at the heart of the film, far more than Anna’s love triangle, and that makes it a unique and special film in the Disney canon. And I don’t care HOW sick you are of hearing “Let It Go,” it gets my respect for that. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes, those fanfiction writers are messed up.”

Finally, of course, we can’t forget the greatest platonic love story of all: a story not between man and woman, not between friends, not between family, but between the sole survivor of a dying world and his appetite.

Project ALF.

The true platonic love affair is between me and this joke.

Will They/Won’t They?

Finally, Duane Hower asks for the best “Will they/Won’t they?” in geek culture, “and why is it Buffy and Spike?” Ah yes, the “Will they/Won’t they?” It’s the trope that fuels a million stories and makes half of them frustrating. The truth is, any time they try a “Will they/Won’t they?” the storytellers are playing with fire. Setting up a WTWT is incredibly easy: get two characters, hint at a degree of attraction between them, and then make the audience shriek uncontrollably as you refuse to settle the question. But concluding that arc in a satisfying way is a lot harder than it seems on the surface. If you resolve it too quickly you give up fuel for future stories. If you play it out too long, the audience gets frustrated. If you resolve it at exactly the right time, half the audience will hate the outcome, no matter what the outcome happens to be. Duane mentions Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I concede that it’s a pretty good example, as far as WTWT go, but mostly because of how adroitly the storytellers managed the timing.

There are tons of classic examples: Pam and Jim from The Office, Sam and Diane (and later, Sam and Rebecca) from Cheers, Ted and Robin from How I Met Your Mother? and so forth, and while some of them navigated the minefield better than others, I think the relationship between Janine and Gregory in Abbott Elementary is one of the better examples. In the first episode, Gregory joins the Abbott Elementary faculty and we quickly see sparks between him and Janine, who happens to be in a long-term relationship. In truth, for the first few episodes Abbott adheres so closely to the format of The Office that it’s almost uncanny. But the relationship between the two of them changes and takes unexpected turns over the next few seasons. Relationships change, feelings change, and while the attraction between them remains undeniable, you’ve got a case here where you genuinely aren’t sure which way they’re going to take the characters. In fact, a late season three episode sets up things to put the kibosh on them once and for all just before the season finale changes everything. One of the reasons I think Abbott is the best comedy currently on television is because of its hilarious and shockingly realistic depiction of a school setting, but the Janine/Gregory relationship is a close second.

Fun fact: putting this much adorable in a single room is considered a health hazard in 29 states.

But perhaps the greatest example of a WTWT in the history of television comes from the brilliant, magnificent, legendary, and frankly underrated sitcom Newsradio. This 90s show about the staff of a New York radio station is one of the smartest and funniest television shows in the entire history of the medium, with whip-smart writing and a cast that performs their roles with such ease, grace, and humor that watching it can almost make you forget what a dumpster fire of a human being Andy Dick turned out to be. As the show was in development, though, the network (NBC) insisted that they include a WTWT among the cast. That was absurd, the writers said. That wasn’t the show they were doing! That wasn’t the story they were trying to tell! This was supposed to be a workplace comedy, not a romcom!

“Give us a WTWT,” NBC intoned deeply, whilst carefully counting their Seinfeld money.

FIIIIIIIIIINE,” the Newsradio writers replied, tweaking the first episode to set up a WTWT between Dave Foley and Maura Tierney’s characters. “Happy now?”

“Delighted,” NBC said, lighting a cigar on fire with a $100-bill with Jason Alexander’s signature on it.

And then the Newsradio writers took their mandated WTWT and resolved it in the SECOND EPISODE by hooking up the two characters officially.

“Look, we’re not Mulder and Scully, let’s just get on with it.”

Newsradio is one of the greatest sitcoms of all time, but the way they thumbed their nose at the network may be their crowning achievement.

Thus concludes PLAYING FAVORITES WITH LOVE STORIES, friends. I hope you all have a fantastic Valentine’s Day. Spend it with someone you love, fire up some of these stories we’ve mentioned, and remember that Phil Hartman was a genius

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His most recent writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, volume one of which is now available on Amazon. You can subscribe to his newsletter by clicking right here. He’s also started putting his LitReel videos on TikTok. Did you know that Jon and Liz the veterinarian finally hooked up in the Garfield comic strip? No really, it’s true. Just throwing that out there to remind you that there’s hope for everybody.

Geek Punditry #110: Playing Favorites With Love Stories

It’s been a while, but it’s time once again for Playing Favorites! Yes, Playing Favorites, that Geek Punditry mini feature in which I throw out a category and my pals on social media suggest related topics wherein we pick some of the best of the best. With Valentine’s Day looming, this week I asked people to share ideas for love story topics. So grab that special someone and let’s get to it! 

Bad Choices 

Jeff Edwards asked for love stories where it’s clear that the people involved made the wrong choice. It’s a funny idea, because I’m sure we can all think of at least one movie where we’ve walked away saying something like, “What the hell did he SEE in her?” And as far as I’m concerned the absolute apex of this trope is from the Lord of the Rings film trilogy. 

No, I didn’t expect to be writing about Lord of the Rings this week either, but here we are. 

Now I love these movies. I think they are masterpieces, and I respect that Peter Jackson didn’t play all fast and loose with canon like SOME fantasy filmmakers I could mention. But if there’s one thing I simply will never understand, it’s why Aragorn would choose Arwen over Eowyn.

Seriously, why is this even a contest?

Sure, Liv Tyler is a classical beauty, but even 20 years ago I would have climbed over her and an entire briar patch to get to Miranda Otto. Nor is it just a matter of looks. Arwyn has that elvish grace and delicacy that makes you feel like you’re embracing a porcelain doll, and I don’t care for that. Eowyn is strong and brave, she killed the Witch King with the power of semantics, and I hear she’s doing her best to get better at making stew. She’s got it all.

In second place is a tie between every story ever written in which Archie Andrews chooses Veronica Lodge over Betty Cooper. I get it. Archie, Betty, and Veronica are the eternal love triangle, and we all know that there’s never going to be a TRUE resolution. They’ve had attempts over the years, but it never sticks. But there is a word that the French have for people who prefer Veronica over Betty: wrongo.

Frankly, they can both do better.

I don’t want this to sound like I hate Veronica, mind you. I think she gets a bit of a bad rap. There have been numerable stories that have shown that, underneath her rich girl veneer, she has a good heart. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s spoiled and selfish, and that Archie is dazzled by her beauty. Betty, on the other hand, is entirely loyal and devoted to him, and loves him without reservation, whereas Veronica on many occasions has been known to toss him aside at a moment’s notice. In fact, that’s probably WHY Archie goes for Veronica – because she’s less attainable. 

What an incredibly stupid reason. What an incredibly realistic reason.

As if that weren’t enough, Archie ignores the very sensible advice of his friends. I’m not saying that if my friends hadn’t liked Erin when I starting dating her that I would have ended the relationship, but at the very least it would have made me question what was up. True friends, people who honestly have your back, should be listened to, and Jughead has made it ABUNDANTLY clear over the years that he’s Team Betty. Archie. Archibald. Listen to your bro.

It’s a little easier to justify when you remember that Archie and the gang are all, in fact, teenagers, and as such he is even more inclined to make incredibly stupid choices than we males of the biologically adult variety. The characters aren’t ever going to grow up, but if they DID, I would like to think that Archie’s better judgment would finally kick in and he would see that the girl next door is the way to go, hopefully before Betty finally comes to HER senses and dumps his ass for Adam Chisolm.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I DO feel ways about things. 

Finally, although this is not a hill that I personally am prepared to die on, my wife wishes me to share her sincere belief that, in West Side Story, Tony was an absolute idiot for going after Maria when Anita was, like, RIGHT THERE. This is true of both the original and the remake. This is even true of the older Rita Moreno IN the remake. I, on the other hand, just want to point out that West Side Story is a multiversal variant of Romeo and Juliet, and as such, pretty much everybody in that story makes nothing but bad choices all day and all night. 

Electric Love

My uncle Todd Petit asked for the best love story involving a robot or cyborg, which is extremely specific, but that’s cool with me! I was a little hesitant to pick this one, though, mostly because in the Facebook comments several people already went straight to what I think is probably the best robot love story of all time.

Project ALF. 

Ah, I’ve missed this stupid, stupid joke.

No, wait, I’m thinking of the best alien/feline love stories. Obviously, the best love story involving robots comes from the Pixar masterpiece WALL-E. I love this movie, and I assume pretty much everybody who has a soul also loves it, and perhaps the main reason is the deep, perfect, sincere love that is expressed in this film. WALL-E is a garbage robot; his job for centuries has been just to collect trash and compact it. There’s no emotional component to this. But after all these hundreds of years of solitude, he finds himself growing a personality – likes, dislikes, hobbies. He begins saving select items from the trash that he finds interesting and grows a little collection. He makes friends with a cockroach. He is mesmerized by the movie Hello, Dolly! 

He even gave her flowers.

And then he meets EVE, a robot that is searching the dead Earth for signs that life can return, and it’s instant sparks. It’s like watching a busted down Ford Pinto fall in love with a sleek new electric hybrid vehicle (coming this fall in Cars 4!) but it WORKS. At first, EVE isn’t particularly impressed by WALL-E, but his sweetness, kindness, and courage melt her electronic heart. And perhaps the most amazing thing about it is that their entire relationship is almost completely wordless. Neither of them have any dialogue other than occasionally saying their names, but that doesn’t matter. By the end of this movie you are crying and cheering and imagining a new Earth populated by a slendering human population and all of WALL-E and EVE’s little robot babies.

That said, good on Pixar for resisting the urge to name him ADD-M. 

As for other great robot love stories…well, the one that comes most clearly to mind is actually one of the most tragic, and it’s from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Like most Star Trek shows in the pre-modern era, this show changed and evolved considerably over its first few seasons. Perhaps the most visible change (other than Riker’s beard) was the departure of Denise Crosby, who played security chief Tasha Yar in season one. Crosby asked to be written out of the show, frustrated over the lack of attention and development her character was getting, and honestly, you can’t blame her. Go back and watch that first season again and you’ll see most of the writing did her no favors at all. But there is ONE element of her abbreviated story that stuck with the characters for all time, and that was her relationship with the android Data. The idea of Data is that he is a Pinocchio, a robot that looks almost human and that wants to be a real boy, if only he knew what emotions were.

She had an AI boyfriend BEFORE it was cool.

Data is my favorite Next Generation character, and in my top three of all Star Trek characters, and the reason is because of his emotional journey. The conceit was that, as an android, he desired the emotions he did not have, but even in that description you can see the contradiction. DESIRE is an emotion. If you HAVE no emotions, how can you DESIRE them? My read on Data, the way I feel about the character, is that he truly DID have emotions from the very beginning – he simply didn’t understand them, know how to process them, know how to define them, and therefore he BELIEVED he had none. After Tasha Yar is killed off, Data returns to her in his thoughts many times. For six seasons, then again 30 years later in the final season of Star Trek: Picard, it is Data that recalls Tasha more than anybody else, Data who brings her up, Data who reveals in that Picard episode that his memories of her are a core component of his personality matrix. The great legacy of Tasha Yar is the fact that, for the rest of his existence, poor Data has been mourning a woman he didn’t really understand he was in love with. 

Sitcom Love

Rachel Ricks asks what I think is the best romance from a sitcom. That’s such a tricky one. There are a lot of great sitcom COUPLES – Bob and Linda Belcher, Herman and Lily Munster, and so forth – but if it’s a pairing that was already together when the show begins, I don’t think I can count them. To count it as a romance, I think we need to see the relationship blossom INTO love.

I also don’t really count those stories that end poorly or where the characters don’t really belong together. Sam and Diane on Cheers may be one of the all-time legendary sitcom couples, but they were utterly toxic to one another and never belonged together. Not to say that a love story HAS to have a happy ending (see what I said about Data), but if it’s a sitcom, I want something a bit more lighthearted.

So I’m gonna stick to the Cheersiverse and say one of my favorite sitcom romances is Niles and Daphne from Frasier. And it’s odd, because it started off as a pretty poor depiction of a relationship – when they meet, Niles is already married (to an utterly reprehensible woman who browbeats and emasculates him at every turn) and pines for Daphne in secret for years. She, meanwhile, is completely oblivious to his affection and treats him with the same love and care that she does Eddie the dog. Eventually, though, his marriage to Maris ends and the two of them find one another. The arc where they’re both with other people but wind up boomeranging into each other’s arms is one of my favorites, and from that point onward the love and affection between them elevates both characters.

Pictured: Steam Heat

There’s a relatively early episode where they have to pretend to be a couple as one of the screwball schemes that happened in every other episode of Frasier, and they play the part so convincingly that Niles almost believes she shares his affection until she compliments him on how good an actor he is. The heartbreak David Hyde Pierce conveys is palpable, and you die a little for him. But it’s bought back years later, when they get together and revisit that scene again, bringing it all full circle. I just love watching those two. 

I also simply adore the relationship between Eleanor and Chidi on The Good Place. This show, about a self-proclaimed “Arizona dirtbag” (played in an adorable way that only Kristen Bell could have pulled off) who goes to Heaven due to what amounts to a clerical error, is one of the smartest and most emotionally profound sitcoms of the past decade, if not of all time. The relationship that develops between Eleanor and Chidi (William Jackson Harper) is one of the core elements of what makes it such a magnificent show. Eleanor has spent her life being self-centered and scuzzy, whereas Chidi’s life has been one of anxiety and apprehension. Eleanor acts without thinking, Chidi overthinks EVERYTHING to the point of catastrophe. The way each of them makes the other a better person is beautiful and heartwarming. 

If this screenshot doesn’t make you want to cry, you did NOT watch the last episode.

There’s a lot more to The Good Place than I revealed in that little recap, because if you’ve never seen the show I don’t want to spoil any of the incredible twists and surprises that it includes, but go and watch it and tell me you’re not rooting for Eleanor and Chidi every step of the way.

Okay, folks, I think that’s going to bring us to the end of part one of “Playing Favorites With Love Stories.” There are still several great suggestions for topics, though, so I’m not done yet. Come back next Friday, Valentine’s Day, for part two. And until then, hey, share this with someone you love. 

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His most recent writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, volume one of which is now available on Amazon. You can subscribe to his newsletter by clicking right here. He’s also started putting his LitReel videos on TikTok. He maintains that the purest love story on TV is Gomez and Morticia Addams, but nobody asked about that, so he’s gonna drop it here. 

Santa’s Odyssey: Valentine’s Day

On Christmas morning, as Santa Claus and two of his helpers returned to the North Pole, they came under attack by a group of holiday Icons angry that Claus was monopolizing the holiday glory. This year, stranded in the human world with no way home, Santa will be forced to take on the tasks for every other holiday — the Icons are on strike.

Previous Installments:

Two: Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day at the North Pole was usually a time of celebration. After a month off, elves gathered together at massive parties and talked about how they’d spent their vacations, shared tales of adventures in the four corners of the holiday landscape, and exchanged coy little cards and messages. In truth, elves rarely needed much of an excuse to celebrate. This year, though, when they probably needed it more than ever, nobody was in the mood.

In Santa’s office, Edgar sat in front of the desk, a few phone books stacked up on the chair he’d pulled up to work. He was doing Santa’s job as best he could, but he still refused to sit behind the desk. That wasn’t his place, wasn’t his right. It wasn’t where he belonged.

Instead of vacations, they had formed search parties. Instead relaxing with beach reads, they had poured over intelligence reports from all over the world. Nothing had helped them figure out where Santa and the missing elves could have gone. Remarkably, trying to find a chubby older gentleman with a white beard was not the challenge. Finding the right one was. It was like looking for a needle in a stack of needles — men matching that description were practically omnipresent. Cross-referencing the search with a pair of little people had turned up some interesting matches in San Francisco, but nothing that was really useful.

A knock at the door prompted Edgar to close the laptop he’d been working on. It wasn’t doing any good anyway. He slid off the books and opened the door, admitting a sluggish Brownie named Chanticleer, one of the heads of the manufacturing department. He had a raft of papers held together with a clip, and a hangdog expression stained his face.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“Did you hear me screaming with joy and going on a hot chocolate bender?” Edgar snapped.

“No.” Chanticleer sighed. “I didn’t really think so, but… an elf has to hold out hope, right?”

“What do you want, Chant?”

He held out the papers. “Projections for this year. Toys, clothes, video games, candy. Orders haven’t started coming in yet, but based on the popularity of certain items and the demographic that we service, we’re trying to estimate how many we’ll need to make of everything.”

“And?”

“We’re already behind.”

Edgar’s shoulders slumped and he felt an ulcer spontaneously begin carving a hole in his stomach lining. “Of course we are,” he said. “How bad is it?”

Chanticleer pulled himself up into the chair where Edgar had been sitting, perching atop his tower of phone books and laying the pages out on the desk. “It’s pretty bad,” he said. “We’re already a couple of weeks behind schedule.”

“Anything we haven’t overcome before?”

“No, but… it was different then, you know?”

Yes. Edgar knew.

“But I think I’ve got a few ideas that could help us streamline things and get back on schedule before things get too out of hand. Want to take a look?”

Edgar stammered for a second. He’d need to climb up and sit at the desk to see the papers, but Chanticleer was already in his spot. There was only one other place to sit in the office, and he didn’t feel right about it.

“Edgar? Are you okay?”

He blinked for a moment, then shivered. This was silly. It was just a chair.

“I’m fine,” he said, pulling himself into Santa’s seat. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got going.”

February 14, 7:30 p.m.

It would happen tonight, Santa was sure of it.

He and Blinky had been thrust into their situation very abruptly, unceremoniously and he hadn’t exactly been given a primer on what to expect. Not every holiday even had an icon, exactly, to bear a grudge against him, so there was no visit to be had. Still, on Martin Luther King day he had felt a rather stronger-than-usual urge to stand up for the oppressed, and on Super Bowl Sunday he had a compulsion to add all NFL referees to the naughty list. Today he was feeling the odd effects of a mild hangover that he could only attribute to the fact that yesterday had been Mardi Gras.

Valentine’s Day, though… that was one of the big ones. Decorations in the stores, cards in the mail, overpriced flowers lining the streets, and chocolate/peanut butter hearts that inexplicably tasted better than the traditional cup shape of the candy. Most importantly, this day had its own icon, someone Santa knew, and knew well, and was expecting. So Santa did something a man who has to manufacture toys and plot out a delivery route that encompasses the entire world has to be able to do: he got ahead of the problem.

“I’m not sure about this, boss,” Blinky said.

“I’ve been around for centuries, Blinky. I’ve catered to the desires of billions of people. I think I know what humans want. Here, dry.”

He ran a plate under the water from the sink in front of him and passed it over to Blinky. The elf, towel in his hand, dutifully began to dry it. Although Gary Valechi had never asked the two of them to do household chores in the month and a half they’d been staying at his apartment, Santa insisted that they do something to show their gratitude to their new friend.

“You give train sets to kids, Santa. This is…”

“A wish is a wish, Blinky. And when that chubby little twerp with the wings gets here–”

“Twerp?”

Cupid’s voice rang out before he appeared. There was a loud “POP” in the air above the sink, and Blinky dropped a plate, smashing it on the ground. Cupid hung in the air, his tiny, aerodynamically dubious wings gently fluttering to keep him afloat. He did, of course, resemble a baby, only he was considerably larger than most of them… and most babies didn’t have a quiver of heart-shaped arrows strapped to their back. “Who you callin’ twerp, Big Boy?”

“Oh come on, Cupid, I didn’t mean anything by it. Anyway, you’re not the only one whose form has changed because of human expectations. I didn’t always look like this, you know.”

“Yeah, but they changed you from a skinny old fart with whiskers to a chubby old fart with whiskers. You look like everybody’s favorite grandpa. I used to be a literal Greek god. I made Channing Tatum look like Mr. Potato Head! Now…”

“Yes, we all know about now.” He nodded towards the elf. “You remember Blinky, don’t you? He was one of the two elves on my sleigh when you shot me down.”

“Right. What happened to the other one?”

“We’ve been looking for her for six weeks,” Blinky snapped. “You don’t know anything about Eleanor, do you?”

“Sorry, can’t help you. My area of perception only extends to lovers. Which brings me to why I’m here.”

“Yes, we know,” Santa said. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re here to show me how hard it is to be you. We understand the protocol. But I’ve got news for you Cupid — I’m ahead of your game.”

“What are you talking about?”

Santa indicated the apartment they were standing in. From the clean, modern kitchen, they could see the tastefully decorated apartment, high-end television mounted to the wall between a pair of framed posters for old science fiction movies. “We’re in my friend Gary’s apartment. We met him on New Year’s Eve and he has been kind enough to let us stay here while we try to get ‘back on our feet’.”

“What? In New York, some guy is letting two complete strangers crash in his pad?”

“Well, I’m not really a stranger, am I? Gary is one of those grown-ups who never entirely stopped believing in me. On a subconscious level, I think he suspects who I really am, although he could never admit it to himself.”

“Fine, whatever. You’re living the Lifestyles of the Young and Yuppie. So what?”

“Well, Gary isn’t here tonight, is he?”

“I repeat: so what?”

“He’s out because I got him a date.”

Cupid’s jaw dangled. “You what?”

Santa beamed, terribly proud of the work he’d accomplished. “Oh yes. Down on the corner, you see, there’s this lovely young woman named Carrie. Works at a newsstand. I noticed Gary blushing every time he bought a newspaper from her, so I gave him a little nudge and convinced him to ask her on a date.”

“For tonight?” Cupid said.

“That’s right.”

“A date.”

“Yes.”

“A first date.”

“Of course.”

“On Valentine’s Day.”

“Naturally.”

Cupid glared at him, his wings beating faster, his face growing red.

“You’re even stupider than I thought,” he snapped.

“Hey!” Blinky hopped up on the counter and leaned in, eye-to-eye with Cupid. “You can’t talk to Santa that way!”

“It’s my day, shrimp, I’ll talk however I want!”

“What are you talking about?” Santa said. “It’s Valentine’s Day! I’m helping two people find love! That’s what you do!”

“Wrong!” Cupid reached into his quiver and pulled out a handful of arrows, shoving them under Santa’s nose. “That’s what these do! And they screw up more often than not! That’s not what Valentine’s Day is for, Egg Nog Breath!”

“I don’t understand. The cards, the flowers–”

“Yeah, yeah, and the candy and the jewelry too, right? It’s all crap, Santa. It’s all different ways for humans to cash in on something that should have a deeper meaning. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Well…”

“Exactly. How long has your buddy been on his date?”

“He was supposed to pick her up at 6 o’clock.”

Cupid glanced at the clock on the wall. “Nearly two hours. Perfect. Why don’t we go take a look, see how things are going? Because unless you got lucky, crazy lucky, million-to-one winning the Powerball lucky, I think we’ll be able to see just why first dates on Valentine’s Day are a terrible idea.”

Cupid waved his bow over Santa’s head and the two of them were caught up in a swirl of white, pink, and red mists. Blinky and Gary’s apartment vanished, and Santa felt a sensation of movement. Very soon, they weren’t there anymore.

“You’re in for a rude awakening, Nicky,” Cupid said.

“I think you’re the one who’s going to be surprised,” Santa said. “You don’t know Gary like I do. He’s a good man, kind and generous. He’s got a good job working at a toy company, he takes care of his mother, he…”

“He’s blowing it.”

The mists cleared a little, and in the haze Santa saw Gary and Carrie, sitting at a table in a fine Chinese restaurant. Each of them had a bowl of soup and an egg roll in front of them. Carrie also had a phone out, casually tapping on her screen as she ate.

“How’s your soup?” Gary asked.

“Oh,” Carrie said. She lifted a spoonful to her mouth and sipped it. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.”

She turned back to her phone and Santa looked at Cupid. “I’ve heard more lively conversation from a pack of snowmen.”

“Well what did you expect? The humans put so much stupid pressure on themselves for this holiday. They have to find someone, they have to fall in love. Then the slightest thing goes wrong and they decide the entire thing is a disaster. How can you possibly live up to those expectations? Hell, I knew Zeus in his prime and even he would have had trouble performing under those circumstances.”

“But what happened? What went wrong?”

Cupid twisted his arm in the air and a phone appeared. He grinned. “Let’s find out.”

“How, you’re going to call them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “She’s been live-tweeting the whole date.” He tapped the screen a few times and brought up Carrie’s feed. Scrolling back to a few minutes after six, he found what he was looking for and laughed.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Here it is, Santa. The genesis of romance.” He held the phone out to Santa could read what she’d posted.

“This guy got a taxi instead of an Uber. #AuspiciousStart.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Santa said. “She checked out on Gary for not using Uber?”

“You think that’s the stupidest reason anyone has ever given up on a date?”

“Well… I guess not, but… is that really the only problem?”

“Naw. She was also bothered that he ordered an unsweetened tea because ‘Hashtag Who Drinks That?’ And he put hot mustard on his egg roll — ‘Hashtag Nasty Sauce.’ Oh, and why are they sitting so close to the kitchen?”

“What? But that’s not even his fault!”

“Once a human gives up, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Well what about Gary? What’s his side of it?”

“I dunno, he hasn’t been tweeting. But look at him, Santa.” Cupid adjusted the point of view of their image so they were looking straight at Gary. He wasn’t on his phone, but he was slumped over, not making eye contact, chewing on his egg roll with hot mustard. He looked, Santa realized, the same way he did when he left the party on New Year’s Eve.

“Your friend is smarter than you are. He knows this is all donezo, and he can’t be bothered to put in any more effort than she is, even if he’s not going to be rude about it. And then, once this date is put out of its misery, he’s going to go home alone and be even more depressed than he would have been if you hadn’t done anything in the first place.”

“I don’t understand. What went wrong?”

“What went wrong is that you went Hallmark, Chubbs. This isn’t what Valentine’s Day is. It never should have been. Good grief, it started by commemorating a guy who got executed for trying to give comfort to persecuted Christians under the Roman empire. How the hell we went from that to a 64-count box of assorted chocolates is beyond me.”

“Fine then. Enlighten me Cupid. What is this supposed to be about?”

Cupid looked deeper into the mists, glancing around the Chinese restaurant. His eyes fell on a table across the restaurant and he grinned.

“Try this one on for size, Santa.”

Their perspective changed again, and Santa found himself looking at another couple. Steven Morten. Gayle Abrams-Morten. Married six years. Two children. Their first night out together in nine months. Each of these facts clicked into Santa’s head the same way the prayers for a New Year had on December 31. As he watched them, Santa could feel how each of them was feeling. It was love, deep love. But it was… cool.

“Check the phone,” Cupid said. Santa realized that he was holding the phone now, and that it was open to Gayle’s Facebook page. He scrolled down. Three pictures of her with the kids. A post asking where to get an oil change. Another picture of the kids. A tag from someone asking if she remembered some music video from high school. Two more of Gayle and the kids. A Spongebob meme.

“Where’s her husband?” Santa asked.

“Click the other tab.”

He did. Steven’s page was more of the same. Him with the children, expressing how much he loved them, he loved them, he loved the Rangers even if this wouldn’t be their year to hoist the Stanley cup, he loved the kids.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re tired, Big Guy. Day in, day out. Nobody is mad here, there hasn’t been a fight. They’ve just been together so long and done so much that they’re… tired.”

“This is almost as sad as Gary and Carrie.”

Cupid rolled his eyes. “Do you hear it when you say it out loud? ‘Gary and Carrie?’ Man, what were you thinking?”

“Forget them for a minute. What about Steven and Gayle? What do we do?”

“Well, that’s what you have to figure out, isn’t it?”

“I… fine. Give me an arrow.”

“Nope. Arrows spark passion. There’s no shortcut to reheat it. You’re gonna have to work for this one.”

Santa reached out into the mist. As he did, he felt sparks of memory. Their first date. The day Steven asked Gayle to marry him. Their wedding. The births of each of their children. The big moments, the huge moments, the moments that are etched into the DNA of any relationship. What was he supposed to do? Remind them of their children? Pointless, the children never left their minds. Recreate their first date? It had been to a Chinese restaurant — this one, in fact. What else was he going to do? Play the song from their wedding dance? Santa pictured himself standing outside the restaurant with a boom box on his shoulders, then immediately pictured himself getting a restraining order.

He reached again, brushing aside the big moments. He saw smaller ones now: birthdays, Mae’s first day in preschool, Arlen’s first cold. He saw Steven taking Gayle’s car in for new tires, saw Gayle picking up Steven’s clothes from the dry cleaners, saw Steven washing the dishes even though it was Gayle’s turn because she’d had a bad day at work, saw Gayle making Steven hot chocolate when she woke up before him on a snowy morning in January.

He saw something small, something sweet. And most importantly, something that was already in Gayle’s purse.

The waiter approached their table as they finished their meal, smiling. “Would you care for any dessert?”

Steven was about to say something, but Gayle held her hand up, shaking her head. “No thanks, just the check.”

The waiter nodded and lay a black folder on the table walking off. Steven looked at his wife, puzzled. “No dessert? Not even those pineapple tarts they make?”

“Eh, those are okay,” she said. “I have something better.” She looked in both directions, surreptitiously, and reached into her purse. From within, she drew two small tupperware containers, and slid one across the table to her husband.

“What’s this?”

“Dessert.”

He popped open the lid of the container and smiled. “You made creme brulee?”

“It’s not hot, but I know it’s your favorite.”

His smile got wider, then shrank a little. “Sorry I’ve been so busy lately.”

“I’ve been busy too. It’s not your fault. Maybe we should get your folks to babysit a little more often.”

“Yeah, maybe we should,” he said. He leaned across the table and kissed her, and she kissed back. As they did, the mists closed around them, and Santa and Cupid found themselves back in Gary’s apartment.

“Boss?” Blinky dropped the dustpan he was using to sweep up the broken plate. “Boss, where did you go?”

“He was learning a lesson, Jingles,” Cupid said. “So what exactly did you learn, Kringle?”

“Fine, I get it,” he said. “It’s the little things that count, right.”

Cupid shook his head. “Man, for somebody who’s supposed to be so good at giving people what they want, you still miss the obvious, don’t you? Look, I’ll spell it out for you. Your day is about the big, ginormous things that kids spend all year waiting for. But focusing on the big things on Valentine’s Day is a recipe for disaster.”

Santa thought about Gayle. About Steven. About creme brulee.

“Sometimes you just need to take the time to celebrate what you already have,” he said.

“Now you’re getting it. I’m sure your missus will be happy to see you taking that approach.”

Santa glowered at him. “My missus is back at the Pole. And I’m missing Valentine’s Day with her because of your stupid little games.”

“Maybe, but you guys can have more Valentine’s Days until the end of time. Folks like Steven and Gayle? If they’re lucky, they’ll get what? Forty? Fifty? If they’re unlucky, this might be the last one.”

“The same is true for Christmases, you know.”

“Sure, sure. But that’s not my department, is it?” Cupid flapped his little wings and bobbed in the air. “Well, I’ve said my peace. Happy Valentine’s Day, Tubbs. Shorty. I’ll probably see you again before this is all over.”

Santa was about to ask him what that was supposed to mean, but a swirl of pink and white made took the cherub away, leaving the two of them alone.

“I really dislike that guy,” Blinky said.

“Hmph.” Santa walked back to the sink. “Come on, let’s finish these dishes. I want to get this apartment in shape before Gary gets home.. I have a feeling his date hasn’t gone as well as we would like.”

*   *   *

“Would you care for any dessert?”

Carrie shot a filthy look at the waitress. “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “The chicken was dry, the egg rolls had so much salt my lips are burning, and the tea may as well have been water. I’m not trusting you people to scoop out ice cream. Just give him the check, twerp.”

The waitress’s eyes grew wide and watered. Her hands fumbling, she put the folder down on the table and walked off without saying a word. Gary’s face was turning red as he reached for the bill.

“Was that really necessary? She didn’t make the food, you know.”

“Then she can pass the message on to whoever did.”

“And what about that last crack? That was unnecessary.”

Carrie laughed. “Come on, what is she? Three feet two? It’s like having a third grader wait on the table.” She chuckled at her own wit and turned back to her phone. Gary put his credit card on the folder and sat in silence as the waitress retrieved it and brought it back. Of the three of them, the only sounds made were Carrie occasionally giggling at something on Instagram. Gary picked up the bill and looked down, trying to do math. A twenty percent tip would have been about twelve dollars. Under GRATUITY, he scribbled “$30” and added it to the total, then wrote “I’m sorry” underneath.

Carrie led the way out of the restaurant, not even noticing that Gary didn’t immediately follow her. Instead, he stopped at the host’s podium, where a kind-eyed man was coordinating the restaurant’s many, many customers. “Excuse me,” Gary said, “are you the manager?”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“I just wanted to let you know our waitress was wonderful. Just a charming, lovely person.”

“Oh, thank you sir. Who was your waitress this evening?”

Gary glanced down at his receipt for her name. “Eleanor,” he said. “Her name is Eleanor.”

To be continued…