Seriously, if you don’t like the silly hypotheticals, why are you still reading? Obsessive-compulsive disorder? Masochism?
Walking through the park one day, you come across lost schipperke puppy. No possible owner is in sight, and because you’re not a soulless monster, you immediately scoop up the little guy and take him home, feed him, and clean him up. Doing so, you notice that there’s Greek script all along his collar; when you touch the collar with your bare hands, those letters morph into the English sentence “I belong to the goddess of beauty & love and some other stuff we won’t get into. If you find me, please say “Aphrodite” and my mistress will be along lickety split.”
Intrrighed, you do as the collar says. In a burst of pyrotechnics, Athena’s less-hot-but-more-flighty-&-forthcoming sister appears. Squealing “Poochie!” Aphrodite takes the schipperke to her bosom and cuddles him, explaining that she had been taking the dog on a walk when she was distracted by a burly young mortal she just had to have sex with, and thus Poochie got misplaced.
The grateful goddess offers you a reward. As it turns out, you’re already on her radar as being unhappily single, and she has a solution in mind; thus she whips out her godly iPad (made by Hephaestus rather than Apple), manipulates a few controls, and shows you a picture of the most ravishingly beautiful woman or devastatingly handsome man (depending on your sexual orientation) you’ve ever seen.
“This is the perfect person for you,” Aphrodite says. “And not just phyiscally; they’re ideally suited for you intellectually and emotionally, and you for them. Now, there was a little hitch because they’re already married to someone else, but don’t worry; I just now turned every bit of love, respect, and affection they had for their spouse to hatred, contempt, and disgust, so they’re packing their bags right now and leaving in a rage. Anyway, if you --”
That’s where you interrupt. “Wait!” you say. “You mean you’re about to mind-rape this person and ruined their marriage? That’s–”
At this, Aphrodite scowls. Not coincidentally, the sky darkens, the earth shakes, and every bird within a hundred miles falls out of the sky dead. “Look, mortal,” she says, “I owe you a favor, so I’m repaying it. But don’t mistake me for one of your own kind. already did it, and I’m not undoing it no matter what you say. That’s not how I roll. Now, as I was saying, I’ve made this hottie fall in love with the simple idea of you; they’ll never be happy or even content with anyone BUT you now. So you have a choice. You can be smart, say, ‘Thank you, Aphrodite, and where exactly can I find my new beloved?’ and I’ll give you their digits. Or, if you’re going to be an ingrate, say, ‘No thanks,’ and I’ll pop back up to Olympus and you can try to handle your own love life. But say one more word that sounds like a criticism, and I’m turning you into a gerbil and dropping you into an alley full of feral cats.”
What do you say, and why?