By: Zainab Salam, Relationship Expert

Squishmallow stans may be ready to march with their plush armies after reading this article, but the truth is, owning a Squishmallow just might be a sign of the times. From what I’ve been witnessing, some people are buying in bulk! Just the other day, a reader had sent me a letter explaining that her partner of two years had purchased a Squishmallow bundle. Yes, a bundle if you’d believe it. This is where I believe Squishmallow-loving people are actually creating a Squishmallow cult. I wonder if they line their Squishmallows in a circle and light a candle in the middle, while chanting creepy songs. Do the Squishmallows come to life afterwards, or what? 

Imagine dating said person. You walk into their apartment, ready to Netflix and Chill, and suddenly you see a bunch of polyester blobs staring right at you. Fast fashion? More like fast Squishmallows.   

What’s even worse is thinking of what it would be like once you’re in a relationship with them. Now picture this: as the new human in the room (yes, I said human), you try to assert yourself. You lock eyes with your partner’s nearest Squishmallow, willing it back down, to acknowledge your presence. Maybe, even attempt to establish turf. But no — those soft, unblinking eyes show no fear, because they’re not alive, but that’s a minor detail at this point. The worst part: your partner is oblivious to the fact that you’re losing this war. 

I bet this shit carries into the bedroom. Think about waking up in the morning, to your partner, cuddling a giant ass squishmallow after they told you that it’s too hot to be cuddling with YOU. Um . . . yeah, no thanks! I deserve someone who will treat ME like a Squishmallow. 

Financially? It’s a nightmare. Squishmallows aren’t investments; they’re made out of cheap fabric. In 10 years, when the plush bubble bursts, your partner will be left with a worthless collection of torn apart fabric and a mess of polyester fibre that doesn’t seem to get off the sofa when you clean it. Try explaining that to guests. 

And emotionally? Forget it. You’re competing for love and attention with a squishy pillow. Is anyone worth it? Tell me? Is anyone? Is anyone that great that you tolerate such behaviour? You can’t change them. They won’t ever change.  

Maybe I should turn tables. Should you lose all self-respect? Should you be stuck in a, clearly, loveless relationship? Where your partner is clearly in love with a Squishmallow? Does a Squishmallow deserve more love than you do? 

Look, I’m not saying Squishmallows are evil. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t be with a Squishmallow-loving person. No, wait . . . I am saying that — what I’m trying to say is that people who love Squishmallows are a red flag. A big, giant, humongous, gigantic, colossal, fluffy, squishy, cute, red flag. A flag at full mast. Waving at all of us, communicating that we need to stay away. 

I hope my advice helps you today. Next time we talk, I don’t want to see you tolerate such Squashmallow nonsense. In my club, we don’t tolerate red flags, we block them!