Holiday Intervention

The date was a complete disaster.

You barely make it through the door before mentally deleting every dating app on your phone. Christmas lights twinkle cheerfully around your apartment, wildly inappropriate for the level of disappointment you’re experiencing. You drop onto the couch, stare at the ceiling, and silently declare yourself done with relationships forever.

The universe, unfortunately, hears this as a challenge.

“Wow,” a voice drawls. “That’s the face. That’s definitely the give up face.”

The Ghost of Love Past appears in the doorway like a bad decision you never fully blocked. Leaning casually, tattoos on display, smirk fully loaded.

“Let me guess,” he continues. “He was ‘different.’ You ‘had a good feeling.’ And now you’re home before midnight questioning your life choices.”

A second presence plops down beside you, entirely too comfortable.

“Okay, but in your defense,” the Ghost of Love Present says, stretching out like he pays rent here, “at least he bought you a drink, right? Or did he talk about crypto the whole time? Please tell me it wasn’t crypto.”

He glances at Past and scoffs. “Don’t listen to this guy. He’s the reason you need therapy.”

Past snorts. “I was exciting. You liked exciting.”

“And yet,” comes a calm voice from across the room, “here we are.”

The Ghost of Love Future stands near the Christmas tree, hands in his pockets, watching the scene unfold with the patience of a man who’s already read the ending.

“You’re not done with relationships,” he says mildly. “You’re just tired of dating men who shouldn’t be allowed near the public.”

Present points at him. “Thank you. Exactly. Lower the bar. Way lower.”

Past rolls his eyes. “Or raise the stakes. You were never built for boring.”

Future finally looks at Past. “Chaos isn’t a personality.”

Past grins. “Neither is being emotionally available.”

Present sits up, offended. “Hey. I have emotions. Lots of them. I just don’t schedule them.”

Future sighs, rubbing his temple like this is not his first time doing this. “You’re not broken,” he says gently, attention returning to you. “You’re just stuck between wanting fireworks and needing peace.”

Past steps closer. “And you know fireworks are more fun.”

Present flashes a grin. “I come with snacks and zero expectations.”

Future smiles softly. “And I come with consistency.”

The three of them turn toward you.

Past smirking. Present grinning. Future waiting.

“Well,” Present says brightly, clapping his hands once, “since you clearly summoned us by dramatically giving up on love days before Christmas…”

Past nods. “We’re not leaving.”

Future adds calmly, “Not until you stop lying to yourself.”

The lights glow.

And your quiet little meltdown has officially turned into a full-blown holiday intervention.