Love is passion-plagued germs like World Cup fanatics on nitrus

How can you listen to this song and not feel emo? I can just smell the tea lights Keith be burning as he serenades his woman, Nicole Kidman, on a Sunday evening. Lavender all up in the place. See? Emo.

Hey, if any of you want ammunition to reel in the affections of an unrequited object of love, give me a holler. I have an exhaustive compendium of love songs, guaranteed to invoke mush and all kinds of maudlin expressions. It’s fantastic. You name it, I got it. Delusional passion-filled lyrics promising improbable eternal bliss? Check.

Can I get a quick show of hands? How many of ya’ll are in love?

Psssh. Losers.

I bet you sometimes envy those who have managed to escape the melodrama that love torturously spins. Most of us lucky people, however, wander around like emotional lepers. We feel left out, because we aren't infected with the dread affliction like everyone else. Trust me, love is like crack: If you don't smoke it, don't start. If you do now, quit while you can.

Love can be cruel, but not as cruel as lovers can be. Sometimes the ones who should end it don’t. Sometimes the ones who want it to last have to leave for themselves. Sometimes pretending it’s working doesn't work anymore. After a while, it hurts more to hang on than it would to let go. And letting go hurts a lot. Trust me on that one guys - I got my black belt last year.

To those of you who are in love, I’ll be over here with the perfect song for you after you’ve been brutally stabbed, beaten and bruised by Cupid.

Booyah.