On a scale of one to Adele, my breakup with Kendra is a solid 25. These past few days have been rough – like, downing-an-entire-jar-of-Nutella-while-binge-watching-Jane-the-Virgin rough. How much do I have to eat until the pain goes away? I thought I had finally found “the one,” but how on Earths could I possibly compete with a reincarnated love that transcends time?

I decided to take a mental health day from S.T.A.R. Labs to wallow, but that’s not to say I wasn’t productive. I baked (and promptly ate) an entire batch of Abuela Ramon’s killer Everything-But-the-Kitchen-Sink cookies, wrote a love ballad for Kendra on my Vortex AX Synth Keytar, cyber-stalked Carter – aka Hawkman – to make sure he checked out (he’s never even had a parking ticket!), and rolled out the trusty yoga mat for some much-needed zen. I tried not to think about Kendra, but that was next to impossible. I mean, have you seen her? It’ll take loads of time and one of those flashy memory-wipers from Men in Black to get her out of my head.

Barry came by after work to check up on me. Let me tell you, a grown man in Star Wars jammies crying his eyes out to Whitney Houston doesn’t make a pretty picture, but to Barry’s credit, he didn’t flinch. He even brought reinforcements: he sped off to Coast City for a stack of his favorite pizza (pepperoni, black olives, and jalapenos) and he brought along a bottle of Joe’s homemade whiskey – which, I learned after the fact, is 140 proof and should not be guzzled like orange soda. Had I been of rational mind, I would’ve asked Barry to hide my phone. The whiskey had me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside and imbued me with the confidence to call Kendra, leave a message declaring my undying love for her, and play her my Keytar ballad. Even The Flash wasn’t fast enough to stop me, but Barry did, at least, knock the phone out of my hand right before I broke into the rap. His look of horror brought me stone cold sober and those fuzzy feelings were replaced with sheer terror – Frak! What had I done?

I ran to my computer and pulled all the stops on my hacking skillz (which was incredibly challenging as I was, at this point, seeing triple). I located Kendra’s phone signal via GPS (she’d left town with Carter and was out near St. Roch) and Barry sped off to retrieve her phone, erase the incriminating voicemail, and return the device safely to her pocket before she even knew what had happened. Crisis averted. We celebrated with a few more rounds of whiskey before I curled up in the fetal position on the sofa and drifted off to sleep, during which I had the sweetest dream of Kendra flying her way back into my life.

Oh, well. They say it’s better to have loved and lost to an Egyptian hawk-god than to never have loved at all, right?