About my rants about Valentine's Day. I probably came across as a bit jaded at best, and incredibly cynical at worst.
For the record: I LOVE MEN. Honestly, truthfully, love men. I don't understand them, but I love them anyway.
Back in my younger years, upon being dumped I would embark on one of those "all men are lying, cheating, filthy scoundrel pigs who should be strung up by their toenails and flogged." That doesn't get a girl anywhere, does it? Now I'm a little kinder and gentler. Instead of "all men" I usually just think that the particular gentleman who has dumped me is a lying, cheating, filthy, scoundrel pig who should be strung up by his toenails and flogged. This hasn't happened to me recently, in case anyone is wondering!
And I DO believe in love and romance and falling in love and all that stuff. I DO. Really. I'm just more these days for showing the object of my affection (and maybe a trusted confidante) that affection than showing everyone within a 50-mile radius.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's chocolate on sale somewhere.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
I'm Gonna Marry This Guy
"-Valentine’s Day is nothing more than an over-commercialized sham of a holiday exploited by restaurants, jewelers, and greeting card companies that just want to make an extra buck. Couples don’t deserve their own day, and those not in relationships certainly don’t deserve to be subjected to an endless barrage of hand-holding and heart-shaped confectionary. Those who ignore Valentine’s Day and flout its conventions are the ones who should be celebrated. Some call us heartless. I call us single."
I daresay I cried when I read this.
The gentleman's name is Aaron Karo.
I daresay I cried when I read this.
The gentleman's name is Aaron Karo.
There HAS to be a happy medium for Valentine's Day.
Typically, I try not to write anything unless I think it is interesting. So I try not to talk too much about my pets, or what happens when I go shopping, or about my electric bill, or anything. I'll just preface what I have to say with that.
Anyway, Valentine's Day. It HAS to go. Or people need to find a happy medium.
On the one hand, you have "I'm declaring my love for whomever and I am gonna do it in the most nauseating way I possibly can to everyone who cares to listen or turn on their computer today." Or "my whomever sent me flowers at work and I love him/her/it so much." (Doesn't that sound like nyah nyah, no one sent YOU flowers?) You get the picture.
On the other hand you have "I dumped someone, so even though it's completely my fault that I DON'T have a Valentine I will blame it all on someone else and have an Anti-Valentine Day and wear all black and listen to Morrissey and invite people out for beers to talk about just how awful relationships are."
When I was in college and I didn't know any better, I took out an ad in the college newspaper telling my paramour that next to diamonds, he was a girl's best friend. You'd think no one had ever heard that line before, because the people at the North Texas Daily ate that up. If there were a Pulitzer Prize for Vday classifieds, that trophy or medal or whatever would have been MINE. Even if he hadn't turned out to be an ingrate, if I knew then what I know now, I probably would not have done that. Wanna know why? Because I look at that and I get dry heaves.
The following Vday, I was BITTER. I wanted to wear all black, and listen to Morrissey, and listen to the Cure, and hang razor blades from the ceiling, and write poetry about how love makes the heart black. This was back in the days of, well, Morrissey and the Cure, so it wasn't Emo, I think it was Goth. Or just plain weird. One of those.
Anyway, I need to wrap this up so I can copy/paste it into my blog. But Vday shouldn't be completely nauseating. It also should not be a funeral. If you have someone, that's great, tell that person what you think, not the whole cyberuniverse. If you dumped someone, and you're still alone, go ahead and have fun with your razor blades, but don't rain on my parade. I went to BJ's with a couple of girlfriends and resisted the urge to tell the canoodling couple at the table next to us to get a room. If I did have a boyfriend-unit type person, I would probably spend a lot of time hating Vday and how much pressure it puts on couples to do something spectacular and fabulous and romantic and memorable.
Either way, it's a shame to see what happened to the feast day of a guy who was martyred for performing Christian weddings. It's also a great opportunity to buy chocolate on sale.
So Happy Valentine's Day, folks. Some of you need to get a room, the others need to lay off listening to Morrissey for a while.
Anyway, Valentine's Day. It HAS to go. Or people need to find a happy medium.
On the one hand, you have "I'm declaring my love for whomever and I am gonna do it in the most nauseating way I possibly can to everyone who cares to listen or turn on their computer today." Or "my whomever sent me flowers at work and I love him/her/it so much." (Doesn't that sound like nyah nyah, no one sent YOU flowers?) You get the picture.
On the other hand you have "I dumped someone, so even though it's completely my fault that I DON'T have a Valentine I will blame it all on someone else and have an Anti-Valentine Day and wear all black and listen to Morrissey and invite people out for beers to talk about just how awful relationships are."
When I was in college and I didn't know any better, I took out an ad in the college newspaper telling my paramour that next to diamonds, he was a girl's best friend. You'd think no one had ever heard that line before, because the people at the North Texas Daily ate that up. If there were a Pulitzer Prize for Vday classifieds, that trophy or medal or whatever would have been MINE. Even if he hadn't turned out to be an ingrate, if I knew then what I know now, I probably would not have done that. Wanna know why? Because I look at that and I get dry heaves.
The following Vday, I was BITTER. I wanted to wear all black, and listen to Morrissey, and listen to the Cure, and hang razor blades from the ceiling, and write poetry about how love makes the heart black. This was back in the days of, well, Morrissey and the Cure, so it wasn't Emo, I think it was Goth. Or just plain weird. One of those.
Anyway, I need to wrap this up so I can copy/paste it into my blog. But Vday shouldn't be completely nauseating. It also should not be a funeral. If you have someone, that's great, tell that person what you think, not the whole cyberuniverse. If you dumped someone, and you're still alone, go ahead and have fun with your razor blades, but don't rain on my parade. I went to BJ's with a couple of girlfriends and resisted the urge to tell the canoodling couple at the table next to us to get a room. If I did have a boyfriend-unit type person, I would probably spend a lot of time hating Vday and how much pressure it puts on couples to do something spectacular and fabulous and romantic and memorable.
Either way, it's a shame to see what happened to the feast day of a guy who was martyred for performing Christian weddings. It's also a great opportunity to buy chocolate on sale.
So Happy Valentine's Day, folks. Some of you need to get a room, the others need to lay off listening to Morrissey for a while.
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