PORTLAND, OR — A local witch is recovering from what friends describe as “an entirely self-inflicted magical public relations disaster” after using a photo of herself actively casting a love spell as the primary picture on her dating profile.
The profile, which featured the witch in full ritual attire surrounded by candles, rose petals, crystals, and enough incense to trigger three smoke detectors, was captioned simply:
“Manifesting my soulmate. ✨🌹”
Friends reportedly advised against using the photo.
“I told her maybe lead with the one where you’re hiking,” said one acquaintance. “Or the one with your dog. Maybe don’t open with ‘possibly enchanting strangers.'”
She declined.
“I want someone who accepts me for who I am,” the witch explained. “If they can’t handle me at my ritual circle, they don’t deserve me at brunch.”
Unfortunately, her dating results took an unexpected turn.
Instead of attracting emotionally mature partners, her inbox quickly filled with messages from men asking if she could curse their ex, summon lottery numbers, identify whether they were secretly part dragon, or “make Elon Musk text them.”
One match opened with:
“Hey… can you hex my HOA?”
Another simply asked:
“So… are you into blood?”
“I don’t understand,” the witch lamented. “Where are all the secure, emotionally available occult-curious accountants?”
Experts say the problem intensified after she casually mentioned that she had recently performed a love spell.
“That’s when every normal person quietly backed away,” explained one relationship coach. “The remaining matches consisted entirely of men named Raven, people with profile pictures taken inside their trucks, and one guy whose bio simply read ‘Chaos Magician. Divorced.'”
Still convinced the spell hadn’t “fully landed,” the witch reportedly doubled the ritual.
“I added more candles,” she said. “And cinnamon.”
“Why cinnamon?”
“Someone on TikTok said it boosts attraction.”
“It also boosts cinnamon sales,” replied a nearby shop owner.
The magical escalation produced increasingly bizarre consequences.
Within forty-eight hours:
- Three former boyfriends viewed her profile at exactly the same time.
- An ex she hadn’t spoken to since 2018 sent “hey.”
- A man claiming to be a reincarnated druid asked if she’d “combine bloodlines.”
- Two separate people opened conversations with “I know this sounds crazy, but…”
“It wasn’t supposed to work like this,” she complained while blocking her seventeenth self-described alpha warlock. “The Universe clearly misunderstood my intentions.”
Friends remain unconvinced.
“The Universe understood perfectly,” said one. “It saw a giant sign that said ‘Please send me everyone who thinks love potions are legally binding.'”
By week’s end, the witch reluctantly replaced her profile picture with a normal photo of herself smiling at a coffee shop.
The difference was immediate.
“People started asking about my hobbies,” she admitted with visible disappointment. “One guy wanted to discuss books. Another asked me to dinner. It’s…honestly kind of boring.”
She briefly considered changing the photo back.
“I just feel like if someone can’t love me while I’m standing inside a circle of thirteen candles whispering invocations to Venus, are they really my person?”
Her roommate sighed.
“No,” they replied. “But they might be if they get to know you before thinking you’re trying to magically conscript them into a relationship.”
At press time, the witch had updated her profile bio to read:
“Practicing witch. I promise I don’t cast love spells on matches anymore.”
Sources confirmed she added the word “anymore” after approximately thirty seconds of internal debate.
