A Cyclops

by any other name would smell as sweet...

and yet I am still alone in my cave. I am pushing 2,700 years old and still single, folks. Time to panic yet?

I can tell you one tactic that doesn't work particularly well. Hiding in a bush until a fair maiden walks by turns out to be a terrible way to make a good first impression. Even if you are holding a flower between your teeth.

This dry spell has gone on so long that at this point I have pretty much stopped putting myself out there at all. I mean, even the skeleton of my last fling has long since crumbled to dust.

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Another issue is, I don't even know myself anymore! How can I expect someone else to love me, when I don't even like what I have become? Spineless, wasting away in the dark, afraid to even try for fear of rejection?

There is a toad on the island that secretes a venomous milk. That toad doesn't wonder what the fuck it is doing, it just hops around and croaks and trips out anything that touches it. That toad is my hero.

So I have been smoking that shit. The toad venom. Things may have gone from bad to worse. My flesh melted off my face and my bones merged with the cavern walls to form an unbroken matrix of ivory.

Do chicks dig that? Matrices of ivory instead of a face?

Cyclops Stomp!

I have an inkling of what to try next. A sweet, gentle, melodious love song ought to do the trick.

COM I am counting on you fine folks to find me a date. If I can't find someone who will stoop down to my level in your crowd, I am well and truly screwed.

I nominate @zeus and @poseidon.