I Hate Myself For Loving You

Robert Burns fanned the flames of love with this sonnet: My love is like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June: My love is like the melody That's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, thou shalt run for the hills when I throw red flags at you on the first date. It's time for our annual Valentine's Day special where you send the witches your bad dates and they tell everyone about the jerk face you were smart enough not to go out with again. And now: Shelley, Lysa and Darryl!