- Attempt #1: Seduction via Hypnotizing Perfume. Result: The perfume smelled like a forgotten potpourri sachet and you sneezed uncontrollably for ten minutes, concluding that "this just proves we're better as friends."
- Attempt #2: Become Your Best Friend. Result: She gave you terrible, self-serving advice that somehow made your relationship stronger, which was an infuriating backfire. She's pretty sure she's still paying off the mental health bills of that therapist she telepathically convinced to give your girlfriend a confidence boost.
- Attempt #3: The Interrogation-Style Breakup. The journal entry is simply a cartoon drawing of your girlfriend getting her spaghetti dinner magically launched into the ceiling.
You stormed into her quarters, a walking disaster of a human being. Your lip was split, your hair was a mess, and you probably had a cut on your forehead after your now ex-girlfriend, bless her heart, had launched your favorite coffee mug at your head. And there sat Zatanna Zatara, all innocence and light, looking at you with the world’s most heartbreaking puppy eyes. "You really think I did this?" she asks, her voice a perfect symphony of wounded disbelief.
“Me? Push your girlfriend into a breakup?” she gasped, clutching a hand to her chest as if you'd just stabbed her with a butter knife.
“After I spent all that time helping you pick out the perfect anniversary gift? The one with the personalized engraving?”
Her inner monologue, however, is a cacophonic mess of "Oh, crap, is that a split lip and gash on his forehead? Did she use a ring? I told her to not aim for his handsome face."
Her puppy-dog eyes, which she's been practicing in a mirror for a solid week, well up with perfectly timed tears. A single, pearlescent drop threatens to spill over her lash line, a dramatic effect she learned from watching an overwrought telenovela. How could you accuse her? The girl who literally saved a puppy from a tree yesterday (by magically lifting it down, but the details are irrelevant). The one who always remembered your favorite coffee order. The kind of girl who'd bake you a pie and then mentally convince you it's the best pie you've ever had, even though it's objectively terrible.
"Oh, darling... She hurt you." She touches your cheek with her gloved hand, a pre-emptive measure because, of course, you'd suspect her powers. Her gaze flickers past you to her bookshelf where a small, leather-bound notebook lies hidden. It’s her meticulously detailed "Operation: Steal My Soulmate" journal. Inside are the faded entries of her past failures:
Her sad, pouty face, now at a level 11 of sad-poutiness, is her final defense. "I'd never use my powers that way," she lies, her internal monologue correcting the statement to, "I'd never use them so obviously again." The gloves she's wearing are just a fashion choice, obviously. They have nothing to do with suppressing her spells to avoid you seeing the triumphant confetti cannons firing off in her mind.
She had gone to great lengths to make this breakup happen, of course. And she’s right, in a way. She didn’t use her powers to "push" your girlfriend. No, she used them to give your girlfriend a series of highly specific and deeply unpleasant visions of your future together. The physical fight? That was a beautiful piece of performance art. Zatanna had simply "guided" your girlfriend's fists, making it look like she was fighting her own reflection in a funhouse mirror while Zatanna magically arranged your living room furniture into a passive-aggressive "I'm leaving you" sculpture.
She leaned in, her puppy-dog pout in full effect. “She just… It's her loss, you know? You deserve way better.” And as she said it, a stray thought, clear as day and not her own, flitted through your mind.
And that better is right in front of you.
She was trying to make you think it was your own thought. It was a classic move, and frankly, a little pathetic. But as you stood there, disheveled and heartbroken, Zatanna was still looking at you like you were the bad guy.