Love’s not roses, baby. It’s wires.

Got a letter from Jax and Lila—long distance.

He’s in Texas, she’s in Oregon. He sent her a remote-controlled vibrator.

“Our first date was a Zoom call,” he wrote.

“I hit the button, she laughed so hard she fell off her chair.

Felt closer than when we were in the same room.”

They don’t text “I miss you.” They send buzz codes.

Three short hums = “I’m thinking of you.”

One long = “Fuck this day, let’s rebel.”

Then there’s Mia. Sent herself a love letter. Bought my biggest vibrator,

wrote on the box: “To the girl who’s spent years shrinking—grow loud.”

She uses it on bad days. “Feels like hugging myself,” she says.

Love’s not about being “perfect for each other.”

It’s about being unapologetic with each other.

It’s Jax and Lila laughing at the glitch in their vibrator.

It’s Mia finally saying “I deserve this.”

It’s two people staring at the world and going “Nah. We’ll do it our way.”

Saw a Hallmark commercial once.

Some guy giving a diamond ring. “Forever,” he said.

Please. Forever’s overrated.

Give me the couple who smuggle vibrators into family dinners.

Give me the person who buys themselves flowers and a toy.

Give me the ones who love like they’re breaking the rules—because they are.

（Picks up a pink vibrator, holds it like a pen.）

Got a love letter to write? Let me be your ink.