As Valentine's Day passes us by once again, having emptied the hearts of the lonely and the wallets of the happily attached, we should spare a thought for those less fortunate than ourselves. I am, of course, referring to anyone involved in professional wrestling, and especially WWE, whos ever fallen in love; because, as everyone knows, WWE is to true love what Michael Myers is to babysitters. Aborted weddings and star-crossed lovers are the order of the day; sudden, inexplicable betrayal and horrible, gratuitous vengeance are the norm. Its almost as though the lives of professional wrestlers are controlled and scripted by slavering idiots obsessed with warped conflict and emotional mayhem. Almost... This year, lets take a look back at what passes for chocolate and flowers in the twisted, broken world of the WWE superstar - with the caveat that were only looking at those storylines that would traditionally be intended to be romantic... and then detailing how the bizarre world of wrestling twisted those good intentions into horrible, horrible pretzels. So no Katie Vick and no Live Sex Celebration, before you ask!
Professional writer, punk werewolf and nesting place for starfish. Obsessed with squid, spirals and story. I publish short weird fiction online at desincarne.com, and tweet nonsense under the name Jack The Bodiless. You can follow me all you like, just don't touch my stuff.
