Soaring prices are changing the dating game.”
—“It’s Not You, It’s Inflation: How Soaring Prices Are Changing the Dating Game,” Paulina Cachero, Bloomberg, July 21, 2022

  • You’re one in a thousand
  • I love you just to the moon
  • I love you with all my left ventricle
  • Statistically speaking, you’re in the range of the 3rd to 5th best thing that’s ever happened to me
  • I can’t live without you (for financial reasons)
  • When I’m around you, I get caterpillars in my stomach
  • You’re the crab-apple of my eye
  • You’re the love of my mid-life
  • You’re my other third
  • I’m the luckiest guy in the world (and by world I mean Walmart, where we find ourselves at 11:43 PM on a Tuesday whispering aggressively about whether we can really afford the city-wide rent increases and a multi-step-under-eye-cream routine)
  • You’re my spicy little meatless ball
  • You’re the (broken tail) light of my life
  • We go together like peanut butter and a plastic takeout spoon
  • We’re like two peas in a Pod Hotel (where we’ve downsized to save on rent)
  • What’s up, margarine cup?
  • You soft rock my world
  • I made you this mixtape:
    • “I’m ~65% Yours” —Jason Mraz
    • “Part of Me Loves Part of You” —John Legend
    • “Bus Me To The Moon” —Frank Sinatra
    • “Three to Five Business Day a Week” —The Beatles
    • “Partial Eclipse of the Heart” —Bonnie Tyler
    • “I Will Give Up” —Jason Mraz
  • I love you this much (opens arms 13 centimeters)
  • I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, until the end of this sentence.