Untitled #14
You know, I’ve certainly told my share of lies through the years but one thing I have never lied about?
You know, I’ve certainly told my share of lies through the years but one thing I have never lied about?
How much I fuck-ing hate Valentines day.
This isn’t the type of disdain I reserve for “Two and a Half Men”, Adam Sandler movies or Katy Perry songs. No, no my hatred for Valentines Day is akin to the searing kind of animus George Wallace felt about integration, the deep-rooted hate between NY Yankee and Boston Red Sox fans, and the type of abhorrence ISIS feels for…well, just about everyone.
Valentines (or as it is pronounced in some corners Valentimes) Day has always stuck in my craw for some reason. Why exactly I have such disdain for this “holiday” remains a mystery. You’d think I should know by now after decades of therapy and yet not once has the topic made it to the table.
It’s worth noting that my supreme annoyance about this day is not some sort of ironic hatred schtick or a nihilistic attitude towards love and/or relationships. Hell, it’s not even about spending the dough on the dumb “holiday”.
Frankly, I’m not all that ironic, I enjoy being in love and purchasing some shitty box of chocolates, a dozen bodega roses and going to some over priced TJ O’Willy Wankers restaurant won’t break me financially.
So why do I hate this supposed “holiday”?
Outside of the fact that I find it terribly provincial?
I just don’t know how many good times I have had on that day. I’ve had roses tossed in the garbage, and at me, on that day (probably more deserving than I will ever admit). I’ve waited tables for happy loving couples on that day (that’s kind of a bummer) and I’ve had some killer fights with whomever I was dating (in public and in private). I suppose the statistical odds of me only having truly shitty Valentines Days would be slim, but the shitty ones certainly do overshadow the good ones.
Now, one could argue did I have a bad time on February 14 because I hate the day or did I genuinely have a bad time? Can’t say for sure, that seems a chicken and egg argument but I do think the two work hand in hand.
Sure Valentines Day is a little, nay a lot, silly but it’s also one of the more exploited “holidays”. I think it falls right after Bastille Day on the exploito-meter (ironically, Bastille Day is exactly six months after Valentines day…and France is the “love” country…coincidence?).
Clearly, the most exploited holiday award would definitely go to Christmas. But at least with Christmas there is SOME sense of something bigger. Like sayyyy, the birth of the Christian savior Jesus H. Christ (if you subscribe to that sort of stuff).
Bastille Day has wine…and begrudgingly, France.
What is it with Valentines Day? Cupid? There is no evidence to suggest that winged cherubs hurling arrows at people’s hearts exist (marginally more data exists to suggest a real Santa Claus…and Jesus, oh yea, he existed).
I know Valentine’s Day is about love but why is it necessary to ascribe one day out of the 365 that requires you to tell someone you love them? Shouldn’t that be a day over day type of thing? I like annual celebrations as much as the next cat, birthdays, Christmas, Bastille Day but it would seem to me that if you are in love, you might wanna say it more than once…a year.
And maybe the heart-shaped Whitman sampler isn’t the best way.
Now, you may think to yourself “Well that sir, is a shitty attitude” or “Geez, I bet this guy never got any Valentines in grade school” or “How does this guy even get laid?”
Bugger off, I did and do fine. I just despise the attachment people have to this idiotic day.
To be fair, with every relationship I have ever had, I’ve been upfront about my disdain for Valentines Day well in advance of February 14. That said, it doesn’t mean I’ve neglected the societal pressure to celebrate the lunacy of the “holiday”. Hypocritical? Maybe. Contradictory? Definitely.
Look, I may be dumb but I am not a moron. Like most men, I like to get a blowjob every now and again and if that means doling out a few shekels on some silly shit, so be it.
It’s completely understood that all of this may appear cynical and, to some extent, I suppose it is. But think about it, if you need a calendar to tell someone you care about them or if you need a giant cardboard display of shitty candy or you need to be ripped off at your local TJ O’Willy Wankers Valentines Day Prix Fixe dinner to remind you that you love someone, your issues are either greater than you probably know or you don’t care. The former is certainly more troublesome than the latter.
Love is often a wicked and spiteful temptress and Valentines Day may pretend to be about love, but I think we can all agree that the one thing Valentine’s Day is most certainly NOT about is the one thing we all need and crave, intimacy. There’s a difference.
Now, you’ll pardon me, I have to make my reservation at TJ O’Willy Wankers.
in·ti·ma·cy in(t)əməsē/ noun: intimacy — close familiarity or friendship; closeness. “the intimacy between a husband and wife”
– a private cozy atmosphere. “the room had a peaceful sense of intimacy about it”
– an intimate act, especially sexual intercourse.
– absolutely nothing to do with Valentines Day.