Dear Amritsar,
I am in love with the most amazing woman: Melancholia Dubbolte. She is strong. She is beautiful. She has the biggest collection of porcelain Jayne hats in the western hemisphere! I have the biggest collection of knitted kitten belly warmers in the Greater Schenectady Commerce Zone – it’s like our hoarding instincts were made for each other!
We’ve never actually met. You know, f2f. If I’m honest, we’ve never actually met not f2f, either. I know my love for Melancholia is reciprocated by the messages she sends me on Twitherd. For example:
@dubboltetrubbolte Amanda Seyfried romantic shocker: marries Toronto Zoo elephant!
This twerp was obviously telling me that love can conquer all obstacles, whether they are of race, colour, species, or an electrified fence separating zoo patrons from the animals. How could anybody in their right mind interpret this as anything less than encouragement to pursue my love for Melancholia in the face of her complete public indifference?
@dubboltetrubbolte new poll shocker: 47% of Americans believe world ended on Dec 21, 2012!
Here my dear Melancholia is telling me that her world would end if I was to ever leave her. Which may seem odd, since we aren’t, strictly speaking, together. It, uhh, could be that her world would end if she didn’t believe that I was out there in it, somewhere, waiting with baited breath (what can I say? – I like to chew bear trap bubble gum) for her next missive. Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right.
@dubboltetrubbolte Justin Beiber too busy to shoot heroin - gives it to clone instead! SHOCKER!
Sometimes, Melancholia’s twerps can be…enigmatic. She’s like a love goddess version of Yoda that way. With this one, I believe that she is telling me that…our love is like heroin – or, that if she had a thousand clones, she still wouldn’t love me enough – or – or – or, maybe this one is for her other followers. I may be the flame to her moth, but that doesn’t mean that her obsession with me blinds her to the existence of other people!
So, when she turns 37 next February, should I throw Melancholia a surprise birthday party (as in it would be a surprise to me if she would be there) in my kitchen, or should I celebrate the milestone by writing a love poem that I will immediately burn to ashes so that I can’t be embarrassed by somebody reading it?
Eric the Dred
Hey, Babe,
It’s always hard to know whether forcing a delusional person to face reality will help them adjust to living with the rest of us in the real world or will shatter their personality so fully that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men will never be able to integrate them into polite society again. Fortunately, you have asked me for help rather than somebody who actually cares about you, so you will get the unvarnished truth (if only because all the king’s carpenters are on strike).
I briefly spoke with Melancholia Dubbolte; she denied knowing who you were. It is not, however, because she hasn’t been following you on Twitherd. No, that would be too simple for the digital times in which we live. Dubbolte doesn’t know you from Adama because she isn’t the one who writes the twerps associated with her account.
“I’m the CEOess of a Misfortune 500 Company!” Dubbolte pointed out to me just before hanging up. “I am responsible for destroying the reputations of thousands of celebrities through the thoughtful application of the principles of tabloid journalism! I don’t have time to ferk around on Twitherd!”
The person who actually writes @dubboltetrubbolte’s twerps is an employee, or perhaps a group of employees, of Twitherd Management Subnational, a company that ghost-twerps for celebrity clients. Citing client confidentiality, the company refused to tell me exactly who wrote Dubbolte’s twerps. Not only that, but the secretary I spoke to shook his fist and told me to get off his line. I guess some companies are just old before their time.
Should we ready all the king’s glue gun squirters and all the king’s psycho-historians?
Dear Amritsar,
So, are you saying that I am in love…with a marketing firm?
Eric the Dred
Hey, Babe,
Sure. You go with that.
Send your relationship problems to the Alternate Reality News Service’s sex, love and technology columnist at questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Amritsar Al-Falloudjianapour is not a trained therapist, but she does know a lot of stuff. AMRITSAR SAYS: it’s pronounced twit-herd, not t-withered. Really, people, how do you expect to be able to communicate a meaningful message in an arbitrary number of characters if you can’t even pronounce the name of the service you use to do it!