i’m very happy to be single right now, but
i hate valentine’s day. it’s a nice gesture, but it has never really worked in my favor. if i recall correctly, i broke up with my first girlfriend on valentine’s day - and even then, we were only together because i felt bad about breaking up with her on her birthday the month before.
my friend gonzo pointed out to me that “it is impossible to not be a cliche today. literally everything you do regarding valentine’s day is cliche. everything. even right now, me pointing this out as another gripe feels cliche.” he is frustratingly accurate here. but cliche or not, i’ll take any reason to complain and run with it. that’s why blogs exist.
in his latest book, david cross says today is like “having a nationally recognized celebrate your perfect health day. we’d all have to spend the day watching a bunch of content, fit people flaunting themselves in front of the rest of us - people with limps, coughs, acne, glasses, crutches, and/or wheelchairs. that’s what every smiling, laughing, squeezing, kissing couple is on valentine’s day.”
the full piece is included after the jump:
“a non-sponsored look at holidays in america” from i drink for a reason.
I’ve been on every end of Valentine’s Day - in love, unrequited love, in hate, happily solo, depressingly solo, and drunk, high and wired up with my dick hanging out in a closet at some strange coke den in Chelsea. And collecting the cumulative experiences into one well-rounded observation, I conclude that Valentine’s Day seems to be a bit cruel if not entirely unnecessary. Not the idea itself but the idea put into practice. When you add up the numbers, the odds are very, very good that most people will feel some degree of shitty on February 14. And knowing that Valentine’s Day means hundreds of millions of dollars for the greeting card, florist, restaurant, condom, porn, and eating-an-entire-bag-of-Dorito’s-in-one-sitting industries doesn’t make it feel any less shitty. Valentine’s Day is only enjoyable if you’re in a solid, good relationship, which applies to how many of us? Twenty-five percent, maybe? Maybe. For everyone else, it sucks. It’s a constant reminder (starting with whatever lead time the aforementioned businesses decide is needed for a “killer V-Day,” blowing the previous sales record out of the water. High five, Stevens! Your idea to make chocolate-covered roses with butter-toffee-flavored condoms for thorns - brilliant!) of how miserable you are even though two weeks ago you didn’t seem really all that miserable or preoccupied. You didn’t really think about it that much. But now! Loser!!! At best, Valentine’s Day is a nice opportunity to take time out of your tiring and unadventurous schedule to appreciate your partner. So what if it’s obligatory? You still get a nice meal, get to remember what you love about each other, and fuck. Unfortunately for the most of us, there is a much greater chance of it being an awkward night teetering on the cusp of derailment with merely the twitter of a butterfly’s fart. Perhaps you have just had a huge fight over something trivial that got blown way out of proportion and turned into something else altogether?*** Are you on your third date, so you don’t know how much gravity to assign to this Valentine’s Day date? Ignore it? Bring her a card? Bring her a card and flowers? What? Thinking of breaking up? Just received your mail-order bride who doesn’t understand your crazy American custom and won’t leave the train station? Were you just caught masturbating by your partner? Just discover you have breast cancer? I could go on and on.
And here’s the ultimate aggravation: not one of the happy couples around actually need Valentine’s Day either. It’s always Valentine’s Day for them. It’d be like having a nationally recognized Celebrate Your Perfect Health Day. We’d all have to spend the day watching a bunch of content, fit people flaunting themselves in front of the rest of us. People with limps, coughs, acne, glasses, crutches, and/or wheelchairs. That’s what every smiling, laughing, squeezing, kissing couple is on Valentine’s Day. Unwittingly adding a teaspoon of bitter stomach acid to be drizzled over your heart like so much Malbec reduction sauce over your prix fixe duck confit. Everyone knows this, too. It’s not like it’s some mystery. It seems that the only people who really benefit from this day of forced love are those Casanova con artists from Italy or France who come to America and take a bunch of frumpy housewives and widows for all their worth, or frumpy housewives in long-ago loveless marriages who subsist on reduced-fat cookies and delusion. Oh, and the makers of Stetson cologne for men and lastminuteflowersforfuckups.com. My point is that it’s more hurtful than helpful.
Although I suppose it is nice to celebrate. And there’s no better way to celebrate something than fucking. So, all in all, I guess it’s better than Flag Day.
***Examples:
Why don’t you like the color purple?
Someone’s a pillow hog.
I don’t want to fucking watch The Wizard of Oz again!
… well then, YOU fucking drive!!
I don’t care what it’s supposed to be made of; it made me sick!
How can you spend that much money on baseball cards?!
I didn’t know there wouldn’t be any hot water left! It’s not a fucking conspiracy!
You used to fuck a magician?!
You really, honestly believe that the Spin Doctors were underrated?
