Flash Fiction Collective

Bad Romance

Prompt: A vampire who loves garlic.

Dear Delilah,

I'm facing a bit of a problem. You probably guessed that, seeing as that's kind of what you specialize in and all.

I recently met who I thought was my soulmate. We swiped right on a dating app, met up for a date, and within the first minute I saw her, I felt like I knew her. We were so in sync- we talked about deep questions like religion and family and destiny. We learned from each other on the things we disagreed with and pleasantly found out we had all the same non-negotiable traits and goals needed to commit with someone. After an amazing night out to dinner and on a romantic walk, which included two bottles of wine and a passionate first kiss, she gave me the invitation all men yearn to hear: "Want to come back to my place?"

Did I ever.

I know, Delilah! I am sure this goes against your honor code for how a gallant, chivalrous man should behave. In my twenty-seven years of life, I have done a fairly decent job of not letting my dick do the talking for me. I had a weak moment in the face of the beautiful girl I thought I could spend forever with. Cut me some slack, okay?

We get back to her place. The passionate kiss from before continues. We dance all over the house, kissing and exploring. She leads me to the bedroom where we initiate the first steps of the consummation of our love affair. As her bare torso begins to get closer to me, she gives a devilish smirk and says, "I have a confession. I'm a vampire."

I laughed, thinking I hit the jackpot. A biting kink AND a love of roleplay? What more could a fantasy-inclined dork like me want?

We have the time of our lives, both of us covered in hickies and bite marks by the end of it. I go home, feeling elated. The joy of meeting my soulmate lasted for approximately fifty-six hours. That was when everything began to come crashing down.

My skin had become exceptionally pale- past the normal limits of what a common cold or flu could do. My canine teeth looked much sharper than before. Sunlight no longer made me flinch- it actually felt like it was burning my eyes. My pupils became dilated and stayed that way. And after a bizarre Google search into the dark webs, some frantic phone calls to local supernatural investigators, and finally, a confirmation from the she-devil I thought was my soulmate, I received the confirmation the crazy bitch was in fact a vampire and she had turned me into one, too.

Again, Delilah, I KNOW. Vampires don't exist, right? I'm probably drunk and writing this, right? News flash, they apparently do! I am equally shocked. And I would agree with the fact I'm probably crazy except I got a paper cut an hour before writing this and sucked at my finger for forty minutes after for the blood. I am also, much to my utmost chagrin, sober as a salad because it is too bright outside for me to go buy a bottle of booze. I am miserable over here.

The breaking point for me of this predicament is I don't know what to do about garlic. Yes, garlic.

I love garlic. And after this past incident, I would say I love garlic more than life itself currently. I mix garlic into almost everything- eggs, pasta, chicken, rice. I use it for health cleanses. I've even tried it in my skin care. (Didn't work well but that is beside the point.) I'm Italian, for fuck's sake! How could I possibly imagine a single day without garlic? My nonna would come out of the grave, pull me six feet down with her, beat my ass into next week, and then spit me out, again if I tried to live without garlic.

I have spent hours on Google researching this. Some sources say the big problem with garlic and vampires is our senses are so refined the smell is too powerful for us. Others say the chemicals interfere with our vampiric DNA and can really harm us. There are so many theories. I tried to ask the Wicked Bitch of the West for some guidance. She thought it was hilarious. She has no remorse, no sympathy, and no answers or advice for my garlic predicament.

To add to the injury, the psycho is sending me cloves of garlic through Uber Eats Grocery daily. Since she obviously did not hand-deliver it, I don't know if I can trust it or not. I am so torn up. I don't even care about her. I just want to forget her existence. But I can't do that until I learn how to decipher these weird subliminal messages of her garlic deliveries.

Please, help me decipher her crazy codes so I can with utmost certainty know it is safe to return to garlic. One may think the bad romance in this situation would be a woman turning me into a vampire but truly, it is emotionally harder to imagine my newly extended lifespan without garlic. Send me some hope, Delilah.

With unseasoned desperation,

Blake