Love is a fickle thing

After digging through my closet the other day and finding a plethora of old fabric that can be used for NEW costumes, I exclaimed to someone I shall not disclose how excited I was about these new costume projects.

They replied: “But it makes you unhappy. Why do it?”

I was silent – speechless and unable for a rebuttal. This hobby can not make me unhappy? That can not be true! So I begin to examine my track record of various rants and such about cosplay. In just the short time I knew this person they probably would think that my beloved hobby made me unhappy since I am constantly complaining about some aspect of it.

But as much as I might get angry and throw fits about it (and quit every other month only to start back days later), I kind of love this hobby.

And what is any relationship without its ups and downs? Its arguments? It’s trying-not-to-go-to-bed-angry-but-still-do? It’s break-ups and make-ups? Cosplay is one of the few long relationships I’ve had (sorry, boo, you know my other boyfriend Video Games and I have been together a long long long time). I am pretty sure all my ex-boyfriends know they were not the first in my life (<- sad, but probably true). Of course I complain about cosplay. Why wouldn’t I!? Cosplay is my hubby, my life-long partner. Cosplay and I are engaged, but Cosplay is such a pimp that I put the ring on his finger, I keep coming back to him, he’s got me wrapped like a vine around a pole.

I’m whipped.
I’m sprung.
I’m love struck.
I’m hopelessly devoted.

No matter how much he knocks me down or cheats on me by giving other’s better costumes, Cosplay and I are together forever. I just have to share him with thousands of others. Strangely, I’m cool with that.

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