Now that my girlfriend has left me, I have decided to do the only logical thing: fatten myself up in hopes that a witch will eat me. Although the thought of being eaten and digested, a process that I am unlikely to survive, admittedly does scare me, the feeling is small in comparison to my desire to be wanted (even if it is only by a dark sorceress with malicious intent).
If I had to pick one reason the relationship failed, it was probably because Gretchen was the jealous type. I have many female friends and that must have been intimidating for her. Though she never mentioned any of these feelings, and on multiple occasions even spoke highly of my female friends, something in my gut tells me this is why everything fell apart.
If I had to pick a second reason things didn’t work out, it would probably be that I used her life savings to purchase stars in the night sky without her knowledge. Though buying and naming a star is relatively inexpensive (around $20 each), the cost tends to add up when you purchase roughly 3,000 of them.
The scheme, which I assumed would not only make me the owner of the skies but also make me rich (since I planned to charge a tax on all those looking to use the sky, from airplanes to hang-gliders) turned out to be little more than a novelty gift: I had no real claim or ownership to these stars. Worse yet, since it was Gretchen’s money I used to purchase them, when we broke up, she did not let me keep them.
With no love by my side and no legal rights to the stars in the sky, I became overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness. Naturally, I sought some form of validation. This desire took the form of gaining 40 pounds and wandering through the woods, looking for a witch who was hungry and wanted to eat me.
“Boy, I sure hope that there are no witches out here!” I shouted as I weaved through the trees and tall grass. “I did not bring bread crumbs to help me find a path back out and I didn't tell anyone I was coming here, meaning that it would be quite a while before anyone came looking for me in the event that I went missing.” These words echoed throughout the wood, and though many hikers asked me to stop shouting, not a single witch tried to eat me.
Thus I am confronted with two possibilities: The first is that witches are not real, thus they cannot hear or eat me. The second possibility is far more terrifying: witches are real and they do hear me, but have decided not to eat me. If this is true, then I can't help but wonder, are the things that made me an unappealing romantic companion to Gretchen the same things that make me an unappetizing meal to witches?
Such is the kind of self-reflection I am forced to ponder in the wake of this break-up.
A lot of people tell me, “Witches are scary, why would you want to meet one?” To them I say, “Aren’t relationships scary, too?”
We take risks because a life worth living is made up of these little moments that remind us that too much comfort does not an interesting life make. We struggle because we are in a constant search of the fleeting feeling of happiness. And a life without happiness is vastly more horrifying than any witch could ever be… Plus I’m really brave. I’ve never even screamed on a roller coaster, so that helps, too.
What I have learned from this is that it is important to let the people you care about know you love them. That could mean buying your special someone their favorite dessert from a bakery on your way home from work, or it could mean carrying a newt’s eye through the woods, shouting how you've brought it as an offering for any witch to use in their potions or brews.
Now, as I lie here, suspended above an open flame covered in butter, apple sticking out of my mouth, tied to a rotisserie roasting stick in hopes that the smell will be too delicious to ignore, I have come to something of a realization: Relationships and getting eaten by witches aren't all that different. Both involve hard work, dedication, and compromise. And above all, you're not going to be perfect at it when you first try. The trick is to learn from your mistakes and to become the best, most loving partner/most appetizing and agreeable meal you can possibly be.