Eros had always envisioned himself as the ultimate wingman—an arrow-slinging maestro of romance. But, as fate would have it, he found himself unceremoniously booted from his heavenly perch, plummeting straight into the chaos of a bustling city. And not just any day—it was the busiest dating day of the year.

As he landed with a thud in the middle of the park, he brushed himself off and surveyed his surroundings. Gone were the idyllic clouds and ethereal sunsets of Mount Olympus; instead, he was greeted by the cacophony of honking cars, pollution, and the unmistakable sound of someone yelling into their phone about “the hottest hookup ever.” Here he was, a god of love, armed with nothing but a box of discount chocolates that looked like they’d been sitting in a clearance bin since last Valentine’s Day, a bouquet of stale roses that had definitely seen better days, and an attitude problem that could rival a petulant toddler’s.

He sighed dramatically, already regretting his latest misadventure. As he glanced around, he realized he was surrounded by humans engrossed in their phones, swiping left and right as if their lives depended on it. The modern dating scene was a far cry from the love-struck couples he used to foster.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, he remembered the ‘gifts’ he had been granted, courtesy of the almighty forces that had banished him. The limited supply of so-called magic condoms that had a shelf life of 24 hours. And to top it off, the cryptic love notes generated by an AI that couldn’t tell a soulmate from a sock puppet were popping up on a shitty smartphone.

“Fie,” he grumbled, “the cruel fates.” At that moment, he spotted a pair nearby, wrapped up in each other. Suddenly, a spark of hope ignited within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could still play the matchmaker—if he could figure out how to navigate this bizarre, tech-driven realm of modern romance. After all, he was the OG love guru; if anyone could pull this off, it was him.