Deadpool: Agony Aunt

Hello, ladies and germs. It’s your friendly neighborhood sociopath, Wade Wilson! Since today is the internationally recognized day of luuurve, I’ve chosen to act as agony aunt for you bunch of losers. Yes, that’s right; just imagine me as your aunt, your sexy, sexy aunt. Aunt Deadpool, purveyor of romantic wisdom, lover extraordinaire, a comic book Cupid who— On which thought, I’ll be right back… Huh, apparently shooting people with arrows does not make them fall in love. Good to know.

Anyway, I know the question that you’re just dying to ask: oh, Wade, how can I ensure a healthy and lasting relationship with my superhero beau, be it Spiderman, ‘The Mothman Prophecies’, or one of that DC bunch of rejects? And are you available for a date, Wade, Wade Wilson? I’m sure being as cosmically good-looking and talented as you are, you can’t possible be spending this Valentine’s Day writing a comedy advice column, alone, periodically crying and— shut up, me! Anyway, relationship advice, yada, yada, and here we go…


Yeah, Editor, that’s the title, the title is there, two paragraphs down the page. Whatcha gunna do?

Okay, so anyone in a relationship with a superhero – as I assume you are, I mean who would read this page if they weren’t, right? Who would want to imagine having a relationship with righteous demigod Superman or impetuous Amazon Wonder Woman with their bulging muscles, perfectly symmetrical facial features and— nope, continue. Editor: You can feel free to trim this down or cut it altogether. Sometimes I can be a bit of a motor mouth.

So, your loved one is always disappearing out the fire escape in the middle of the night, tearing off their shirt/blouse, or coming home smelling like fear, death, and chimichangas. Also, Death, if you’re reading this… Lunch? Anyway, either your loved one is cheating on you, in which case kill them, arrows work surprisingly well (as I have recently discovered), and, of course, at this time of year are amusingly ironic as a murder weapon. Preempting killjoy Editor: do not kill your spouse even if they are cheating, there are far worse things than Death (again, if reading this, call me!). Oh, yes, or they’re a superhero. You can check, I’m pretty sure Wikipedia has a full list – btw, if your boyfriend is a hairy, bad-tempered Canadian whose chest you can stick fridge magnets to, tell him Wade says ‘Hi’ and that Omega Red is STILL wetting the bed.

Anyway, here’s a list of do’s and don’t’s for your super beau:

−      Do give them your support. It’s difficult being a superhero, or so I am told (Spider-Man is a whiner, a wiener, and he cries like a girl. I do not know what Black Cat sees in him). While they’re off saving the world, cook them a nice meal, maybe open a bottle of wine, and some nice lingerie never hurt anyone. Just take off the Kryptonite broach first.

−      Then hit them with it. They didn’t tell you that they have an alternate identity that is almost certain to put you in terrible danger. If a gloating super-villain who seems strangely intent on using you as leverage against someone you’ve never met has not yet kidnapped you, they will. If they already have, congratulations, the scumbag who put you in harm’s way has obviously succeeded in saving you, which is something, I guess. Unless you’re a ghost? Can ghosts get online? Do ghosts read? Gwen, Gwen Stacey?.. Too soon? Also, spoilers.

−      Though if you’re on a website called A Place To Hang Your Cape and were unaware of possibly the most famous death in the whole Marvel universe, you too may be a moron. Editor: we okay on insulting the readership? If not, I’m Deadpool and we may have a problem. Also, that one wasn’t an actual piece of advice, that was me being meta-. Meta-. Meta-. Meta… I know there’s a suffix there somewhere.

−      Don’t tell anyone about their secret identity. Just… don’t. Seriously. Why— I shouldn’t even have to be telling you this. It’s called a secret identity, not a… not-secret identity. Spider-Man is Peter Parker; the world doesn’t need to— oh. No, wait, it’s fine. He’s on Wikipedia. Also, Mary Jane AND Gwen Stacey: love triangle? That seems wasteful. Why not make it a love quadrilateral..?

−      Do take precautions in the bedroom. This goes back to the whole head-pelvis thing from the title. I suggest sex aids, maybe some sort of swing. I mean, Ole Metalhead had a creepy codependent with his suit, also Superman and Supergirl almost had a thing (though that was another time, another more incest-y time). What I’m trying to say is that it’s a messy, screwed-up world out there, hallejuah!

You can also check out this clip from Mallrats: (skip to 35 seconds in)


And that’s about all I’ve got. Wow. I need to start dating more. So yeah, just do this stuff and hopefully “till death do us part” won’t be for a while. Also, if you need anyone killed – unfaithful spouses, for instance – I’m sorta just kicking around the house. Death still hasn’t called (it’s fine, we’re cool). And I have arrows – again, irony. In any case, happy Valentine’s Day, norms. Also, if you’re a superhero and I’ve inadvertently compelled your spouse to have you killed… see you soon, I guess.

Failing that, I’ll see you all for Saint Patrick’s Day. Murder AND drink, and it’s the one day a year I get to break out my special green costume. Fun, fun, fun!

About the author

Robert Wallis

You can also read Rob's work at www.ofallthefilmblogs.blogspot.com.