Valentine’s Day

Here it comes. The one day of the year where no chick wants to be alone, no dude wants to be in a relationship, and companies cash in on guilt. Of course, I’m talking about Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day, or Saint Valentine’s Day as it was originally known, began around 270 A.D. after the martyrdom of Saint Valentine, a priest who would secretly marry couples despite the Emperor’s halting of marriage ceremonies in order to gain more army recruits. He was beheaded on February 14th, and the day originally got set aside to honor him. What became of it was what we have today: price gouging on red roses, boxes of chocolate that can’t be large enough, and those awful heart shaped candies that taste like toothpaste and have sayings such as “E-Mail Me” and “Wuv U” that leave an even worse taste in your mouth.

But it’s not all bad. Above I mentioned that no chick wants to be alone on Valentine’s Day. That means that guys, this is your time to be able to bag one of these said chicks, or, if you’re not a complete idiot, just not have to try as hard.  But be careful, or else you’ll end up as one of those suckers who end up having to spend $400 in roses and gigantic teddy bears and balloon bouquets that will die, get dirty, and deflate within a few days. So don’t do it, right? It’s a waste of money that could be better spent on something more meaningful, more lasting. She’ll understand, right? Wrong. She’ll be mad. But not because she thinks you don’t love her – she knows you do. Oh no, she’ll be mad because the other chick at work got the balloon bouquet and the 50 pound box of ass-fattening chocolate delivered at work, and she felt left out, or she felt insecure because you only got her the 45 pound box of ass-fattening chocolate and a single balloon… but a really nice, touching card. And this is the guilt that I spoke of earlier. You know if you don’t deliver shit to her work or show up in the evening with those roses and a reservation at your favorite expensive restaurant, you’ll have to deal with the sobbing, the whining, the “why don’t you love me”s/”but Rita’s [significant other] got her [something ridiculous] – he must love her more than you love me”s until you find a way to make it up to her. Retarded. And if anyone who’s reading this’ chick tries to say one of those things, I want you to slap her in the mouth (figuratively speaking, of course) and tell her that maybe she should go and be with that other dude – the total tool and sucker.

Happy Valentine’s Day.