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Cavaliers is 44. He is a reasonably successful man, especially considering that he has lived in Cleveland for his entire life. He has made some good investments, but he has made his share of bad ones, too. Since his most recent break up, Cavaliers has had a tough stretch. In fact, it has become the type of tough stretch people in Cleveland know all too well.

You see, there was this girl. When Cavaliers was 33 she was just 18. That may seem like a large age gap — like, at least get that girl to college for a year or two before dating a guy like Cavaliers! — but you have to understand something: this girl was perfect. Her name was LeBonnie James. She was a local Ohio girl that was being recognized nationally since her junior year of high school. She was featured in all the magazines. In fact, she even made it onto the cover of Sports Illustrated. The accolades came pouring in like a thunderstorm off of Lake Erie: the prettiest, smartest, strongest, fittest, most promising young woman to come along since some pageant winner named Michaela Jordan swept the nation off its feet in the nineties.

You see, Jordan was from Chicago, that Midwestern city that overshadows all the other cities that call soda “pop.” Cavaliers knew all too well how good Chicago had it with this Jordan girl. It almost felt like every time Jordan (and her husband, Bulls) came through Cleveland they sent a metaphorical sucker punch to his gut before leaving town to go to Detroit, or New York, or some city that would then try their hand at containing Jordan’s larger-than-life presence. Cavaliers knew what he had to do. He had to be more like Bulls — he had to find himself a wife like Michaela Jordan.

So when this local girl named LeBonnie James started making all those waves, Cavaliers started to feel like it was meant to be. He just couldn’t figure out how he could get himself an “in.” He thought about it for several years, to no avail, before a serendipitous thing happened: Cavaliers’ big break came in the form of a television show. That’s right, Cavaliers entered a reality show named The NBA (New Bride Anointment) Draft knowing that if he could win the reality show, he would win the opportunity to date this teenage beauty. And that’s exactly what happened.

It wasn’t long — in fact the two hadn’t even been on a real, live date yet — before the two started to dominate the tabloids. Entertainment shows couldn’t get enough of the couple. The city of Cleveland embraced them wholeheartedly, figuring they’d spend a few years dating and figuring it out prior to getting married. It was to be the first royal marriage in the Cleveland family since 1964.

There is something I did not tell you. Cavaliers is a prince. Cavaliers has two older, royal brothers. As the youngest, Cavaliers was not the brother thought to be the next King of Cleveland, but when Princess LeBonnie came along, it only seemed like a matter of time before Cavaliers was on his way. Marrying a princess wouldn’t technically make him king, but there seemed to be a consensus among Clevelanders that whichever brother could break the drought would be referred to as King thereafter.

Browns, the middle brother, was born in 1946, and had been married four different times: in 1950, 1954, 1955, and 1964. He was the last brother to have been married. Since then, Browns had been living a truly miserable life. He could never recreate his success of yesteryear. All his friends found they got severely depressed in his presence. In 1996, he went mysteriously missing before being found three years later. Most people blamed the criminal Art Modell, and threatened to do things like defecate on his grave once he died. (Modell finally died in 2012, no word yet on how many people have followed up at his grave site). But Modell got the last laugh, because Browns that was found in 1999 was a changed man. He was more like a sexually-abused shell of their former self. He had many unsuccessful relationships with a bunch of losers. The entire city of Cleveland would still come check up on him most weekends during the fall — he was still royalty, after all — but they repeatedly asked themselves one question: Why are we doing this to ourselves? Most recently Browns has been spotted in public with tabloid-diva Janny “Blue Balls” Manziel, who has got trouble written all over her. You might say Browns has the saddest story of any of the brothers, and not just because he was (presumably) kidnapped and sexually abused during that three-year window in the late 1990s. It is because the future really doesn’t look bright for him if he continues to hang out with such losers.

Cavaliers eldest brother, Indians, is over 100 years old (it is unclear exactly how old because people stopped caring). He was married once in 1920, and again in 1948. He had been engaged as recently as 1997, when his bride-to-be Josie Mesa got cold feet at the altar. He had even proposed to a girl in 2007 before some other elderly dickhead from Boston swept in and married his trophy wife-to-be. Indians had a feel-good summer fling in 2013 that has turned into a sophomore slump thus far in 2014 — it is looking like the two sides will not be able to patch it up in time for the upcoming, autumnal wedding season.

In a lot of ways, Cavaliers is Cleveland’s last chance at a royal wedding. Many of the city’s citizens have lamented for years that they have never seen one in their lifetime and probably never would. It is kind of amazing, some might note, that Cleveland even cares anymore. They have these three royal brothers that have never been able to get it done for them. What makes them still care? Why do they read about them in the paper every day, hang on every word of every radio story regarding the boys, and demand every one be quiet while they watch the final few seconds of a Cavaliers, Browns, or Indians reality show on television.

In fact, just last night I found myself in a bar in Vermont, watching the extras of a show about the Indians. Indians was going one-on-one with this Yankees guy from New York that’s been married 27 times (though he is not looking primed to accomplish a 28th wedding any time soon). And I couldn’t look away from my phone! I had to know how it ended. I had to see if Indians could defy the odds and achieve a moral victory for the city of Cleveland. Don’t worry folks, Indians lost. I would say it was honorable or something like that, but it wasn’t. It sucked.

But I digress, because the main buzz around Cleveland now is why I’m writing today. People are losing their minds because it seems LeBonnie’s relationship with that sleezy, Ferrari-driving slick from Miami is on the rocks. The slick’s name is Heat. Heat had some of the best, most powerful friends in the country, and for four tumultuous years, LeBonnie had it pretty good. She got married not once, but twice, to Heat. Some people hated them, some people loved them, but Heat and LeBonnie were having a grand old time.

But this past June something changed, and people are starting to speculate that LeBonnie has been texting Cavaliers again. The rumors of the two possibility getting back together and trying to make an eventual marriage work have only been aided by Cavaliers doing anything he can to please LeBonnie. He’s spent the last several days cleaning out the house they used to share. Throwing out old stuff he overpaid for with the hope that she’ll see their old house with some nice new furniture and say, “Yeah, we can build something together here. Let’s give this another shot.”

Part of me feels like Cavaliers should know better. This isn’t going to end well. He should run away. He should tell her, “Fuck you, LeBonnie. You just want to use me again. You just want a feeling of comfort, and I’m not here to provide that for you anymore. I might never get married again, but I will be damned if I get married with YOU.”

But he won’t. And it’s not because he loves LeBonnie — I should point out that it hardly seemed like he missed her when she was in Miami with Heat. The thing is, Cavaliers just wants to get married so damn bad. He just wants to see the city of Cleveland happy again, for the first time since 1964.

And even though it probably won’t work out, I guess I can’t blame Cavaliers for doing everything he can to get LeBonnie back in his bed, and hopefully, eventually, to the altar.

After all, a ring is a ring.