Valentine’s Day Is About As Fun As A Case Of VD (2009)

For a whole  24 hours those in love, lust, denial, acceptance and forgiveness celebrated Valentine’s Day. And there isn’t a place you can go to escape it. Every which way I turned I saw hearts, flowers and goofy-grinned couples.

Pairs were everywhere and in everything: A tow-truck pulling a car, men and women, men and men, women and women, candy and flowers, a construction worker hammering a nail (that may have been a three-some, but you get the point). Hell, even the bums in the neighborhood were in pairs.

Oh, how I do detest VD day, and yes I know that’s redundant.  This horrible man-made holiday that forces its love on people can only be compared to an unwanted venereal disease. Thanks Hallmark!

Apparently, I am the only one in a 25-mile radius that is alone and that’s fine by me! But with all the added pressure of the day, I need a drink in a dive bar.

I ordered a foamy beer beside my turkey burger and fries and just as I begin to drink, the bar wench returns with another beer.

“I have one already,” I let her know while taking a sip.

“Oh, I know,” she said. “But I almost forgot. It’s two for one all day. Enjoy!” she says wearing a big cheesy I-just-got-the-most-thoughtful-card-from-my-boyfriend grin.

Great, even at lunch I’m a fifth wheel. I can’t wait to leave this bar and head to the bookstore.

As you may have guessed, I’m single. Actually, I’m sensationally single and damnit and I don’t have to justify that to anyone.

Nor do I have to be made to feel inferior by those smug couples. You know the couples that, suddenly, are so much in love today.

SHE seems to have forgotten when he blew off meeting her mom because of something called, “Fantasy Football”, while HE has forgotten the fact she calls him 37 times a day to talk about nothing.

Together they seemed to forget how his ex still calls him, but he swears she’s just a “psycho-bitch ex- girlfriend” (funny, how men coined any ex as a psycho-bitch), but since he brought a card at Walgreens, all is well.

And let’s not forget the candy and/or something equally as lame as the crap you got in high school, like a stuffed teddy bear or a giant heart balloon. And that somehow makes it acceptable, because its Valentines Day. Listen up people, Giant heart balloons, like Crocs, are never acceptable, even in the privacy of your own home.

Story about me being single. I remember when some friends and I gathered to make me feel better after the man I was dating felt the pressure of the five-month-old relationship and disappeared. Obviously with same cloak of invisibility my last boyfriend used.

He’s such an asshole,” Stacy said while looking at his picture on my cell phone.

“Lemme see this ass-wipe,” Becky said while grabbing the cell phone. Totally unaware she just cancelled out Stacey’s remark.

I point this out, the coalition looks at me and calls me all sorts of nerd, and dork and I believe I heard writer-geek.

“Let’s just agree he’s an ass,” Stacey concludes.

“Kind of cute though,” Becky quips.

The collective stare of single women burns holes in Becky.

“But, he’s still a dick,” she answers, blowing the whole asshole/asswipe thing again. This time I keep it to myself.

It’s fine. He’s off doing whatever asshole/asswipe/dicks do, when not in relationships. I of course have eaten 2 pints of ice cream (Buy one get one free special), joined Women’s Boxing, cleaned out my closet and rearranged my bedroom incidentally finding a five-year-old gift certificate to a bookstore. Which brings me to why I couldn’t get to the bookstore on Valentine’s Day.

See, I’d like to go see if my gift cert is still valid, but I may run into some cutesy couple at the store reading a book together.

“Are you ready to turn the page, sweetie?” he’ll ask.

“Yes, dear,” she’ll reply.

“Can I turn it then, sweetie?” he’ll continue.

“Yes, dear,” she’ll smile.

“Good, because I couldn’t bear if you got a paper cut.” he’ll say with as much concern as to sound genuine and not like some guy that figures he should at least get a blowjob today.

And they’ll smile.

Nope. No bookstore for me!

I’ll just stay indoors, because I’d have to kill said couple, get sent to prison and be paired up with my new cellmate, Big Bertha, who undoubtedly make me her bitch and I will have to smuggle in heart-shaped candies (Ouch) this time next year because she’ll like Valentines Day, as she has been programmed to do.

Personally, I blame Disney and Hallmark.

“Eff you Disney and Hallmark!” I say aloud to no one in particular, which reminds me I need to stop talking to myself, because my cat obviously doesn’t care.

So this Valentine’s Day I poured some Pinot, ate some Popcorn (and while the ‘P’s don’t make it right, it makes me happy) and I settled in to watch some DVR’d episodes of CSI.

It’s the one where the CSI gang finds the old lady three days dead in her kitchen being eaten by her cats. I shut off the TV.

It’s official. I know when I’m beat. The universe is against me. Time to put an end to this day, I shake out two sleeping pills, “Oh, no I’m not gonna be a third wheel in my own bed.” I think to myself, because the cat still couldn’t care less, plus now I know he’ll eat me if it comes down to it.

I put one pill back in the bottle to truly make it a pair: Just my sleeping pill and me. Because  pharmaceutical drugs are the only way to ward off VDs.


The URI to TrackBack this entry is:

RSS feed for comments on this post.

2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. You wouldn’t be cynical, by chance…would you?

    • Never cynical just conscientious.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: