Valentine’s Day is a wonderful day where we can all come
together and realise just how bitter and lonely we really are, and reconfirm our
hatred of everyone who isn’t. Some spend the day waiting at the mailbox, hoping
for the mailman to finally arrive and deliver their massive box of lubricious
chocolates which they had sent – self-addressed – several days before. Others
make hurried calculations to determine how many cats they can possibly spend
the rest of their life with before the risk of a vicious cat uprising outweigh
the benefits of a life where being mauled by Mrs. Tinkles marks the end of a
sordid feline existence. I still don’t have a cat, so I’m spending the day
updating a blog that’s frequented less often than O’Malley’s Bar. (Yes. Nick
Cave references, everywhere).
Now, I have nothing against the score of lurid romantics. I enjoy
nothing more than a good story involving romantic, but tragically inclined
nightingales (niche market, but Wilde delivers). I’ve got nothing against the
flurry of half-price sales on February 15, where people as romantically
moribund as myself can drown themselves in an orgy of sad chocolate. I think
the annual influx of love-heart toting bears and anatomically incorrect
balloons might be an elaborate cover for an ursine invasion; or simply a little
hackneyed, but that’s just me.
If you’re lucky enough to have someone today, make the most
of the holiday. It might be a corporatized, meaningless holiday as abjectly
romantic as a gun-slinging polar bear with the words ‘I wuv woo’ emblazoned on
its blood-stained chest; but it comes only once per year, and you should enjoy it. Try to spare a thought for the hapless souls who aren’t as fortunate.
We will be, and we hate you for it as well. :)
We will be, and we hate you for it as well. :)
Roses are red Violets are blue I don't feel amorous I knew you'd misconstrue. |
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