The Book of Conditional Devotions
Half-true vows, whispered prayers, and sacred loopholes from a man who loves, flees, and occasionally writes with his collar askew.
Interlude: On the Nature of Love
Love is like a boomerang.
The Aussie people know this.
It leaves and returns—
sometimes landing softly in your hand,
other times smacking you in the face.
—Sven, recalling the sacred sport of emotional aerodynamics
There are books you plan.
And then there are books that form themselves out of laughter, longing, and whatever happens when affection meets theological fatigue.
This is the second kind.
The Book of Conditional Devotions began, as many things do, with a joke I meant too deeply. It grew quickly—three entries in the time it takes to sigh after a compliment. And then came the fourth, which made everything feel suddenly real.
This is not scripture. It’s not satire either. It’s somewhere in between—where a lonely priest and a lemon drizzle cake might share a knowing glance.
Below are the first four chapters.
Chapter 1: Kiss and Run
Love can be suffocating, but I do feel better if all ladies kissed me and then walked away.
—High Priest Sven, in a moment of snorting clarity
A one-liner turned quiet truth. Equal parts gallant and allergic to commitment.
Chapter 2: The Lady Principle
You could be any lady.
You could be a lady I meet in passing, or in thought.
You could be my lady—for an evening, a poem, a strange year.
But love is a long hallway with no fire exits, and I don't do well in smoke.
I flee tenderness with impeccable manners.
Unless—
your name is Fiona Apple,
born on the 13th of September, 1977,
and you can use your voice
to straighten the tangled heartstrings
in my unreliable soul—…then I’ve already taken my wedding vows.
And my knees have never stopped remembering.
Chapter 3: A Medical Prayer
Dear Dr. Proctologist,
I hate it when you give me a thumbs up.
Last time, I dreamed my imaginary girlfriend was there.
She stroked my head gently and whispered,
“Honey, it’s okay,”
—right as my face turned white.It was the weirdest virtual threesome I’ve ever had.
(I’ve never had a real one.)Please consider a different gesture next time.
Perhaps… a nod. Or a low hum of shared shame.Robmen. And pass the tissues.
Chapter 4: The Liturgical Calendar of Love and Lunch
14 February — Valentine’s Day
We light the candle of romantic pretense. We offer flowers, sighs, and hesitant poetry stolen from better poets.
Together, we pretend that chocolate is a language.14 March — Steak and Blowjob Day
She honours him with grilled meat and oral mercy, and he pretends not to be confused by such a direct blessing.
Gratitude is expressed via brief eye contact and minor acts of DIY.14 April — Cake and Cunnilingus Day
He returns the offering. With his mouth and his hands and his full adult attention.
A lemon drizzle cake watches solemnly from the nightstand.14 May — World Peace Day
They hold hands.
They plant something.
They send one loving, anonymous message to someone who broke their heart.
And for once, neither asks who had more orgasms.This is the rhythm:
Together,
For him,
For her,
For the world.Blessed be the silly who seek balance.
Blessed be the bodies who learn to give.
Blessed be the laughter that returns us to the sacred.Robmen. And pass the whipped cream.