The god of orchard similes and space metaphors

You’re in that tricky relationship transition, going from blazing-heat-of-a-new-sun to satisfyingly-warm-orange-star-that-snuggles-and-goes-furniture-shopping.

‘Tell me how beautiful I am.’ (Look out, fellas! It’s a trap! Not even light escapes this black hole!).

‘Your hair is like silk. Your eyes are like diamonds,’ he says. Uh-oh, he’s got a brown dwarf upstairs. Prepare for escape velocity.

‘Your breasts,’ he says, ‘your breasts…are like two mangoes.’ He’s a mango-lover, you have nice mangoes. What does it matter if he sheds more heat than light?

But then you both drop into the fruit’n’veg shop to get the coriander he forgot and see the other mangoes in his life. They’re small, lumpy, bruised and even the flies only saunter over at closing time. The grocer shrugs his apologies.

‘Sorry. End of the season,’ he says, ‘but why not try these beauties?’ He directs your attention to the most fantastic melons right next to the mangoes. They’re round, they’re firm and oh my god, the scent!

‘In the ten or so years I’ve had this shop,’ the grocer says, ‘this is maybe the best fruit I’ve ever had. Have you ever seen melons like these?’ he says to your dim boyfriend.

‘Apparently not,’ you reply on his behalf. Welcome to planet single, population you.