I am an unabashed cynic about Valentine’s Day. This could be because I never actually celebrated it, which in turn means I never had to suffer through a meal suffocating in various sanguine shades and the crushing pressure that comes with having to prove my love in a satisfactory way on this specific day.
Cynicism: exhibit A.
And don’t give me any of that crap about Valentine’s Day being for everyone, like your mothers and friends and poodles. If you haven’t been expressing yourself on any other day then you don’t deserve the other person’s admiration on this day.
You know what ticks me off nearly as much as sub-par chocolate wrapped in nauseating shades of pink? The insistence of certain regimes around the world that Valentine’s Day is a Bad Western Influence and should be banned. Recently Uzbekistan “canceled” Valentine’s Day. When are these numbskulls going to learn that outlawing something in the name of culture will never work? The best way to get everyone to respond the way I do is to put up a giant, tacky billboard of the least cool government official they can find urging everyone to celebrate their feelings on Valentine’s Day. Preferably a candid unflattering mugshot of them, surrounded by tiny tinfoil hearts.
Or better yet, hand everyone flyers to Valentine’s Day parties, but make sure they’re covered in glitter, because everyone knows there’s nothing more enraging than sparkling inappropriately even after you’ve washed everything you own three times.
My goal today is to do whatever I intended to do anyway, and then sit in a corner reading more about the Salem witchcraft trials and occasionally saying “Bah, humbug”. I fully intend to be the Scrooge of February 14th*.
*There’s probably a Scrooge-scourge joke somewhere here but I’m too annoyed to make it.