Friday, February 29, 2008

The Grass is Brown All Over Town

(originally posted 02/13/08)

I know. I have no room to speak. I have no right to complain. I should shut my cake hole or better yet, use it to loudly thank the goddesses that I actually have something to celebrate on the Relationship Holy of Holies.

I honestly debated whether I should post this at all. Would I be struck down by mysterious and unearthly forces? Or human ones? That is yet to be seen...I actually felt guilty writing about the flip side of this evil holiday…YES! I said evil. There. It's out. I say this loudly to you all! Valentine's Day SUCKS!!

Don't hit me with cherry filled candy and black roses. I get it! The only people that are allowed to bitch are those that can rage against the heavens (and its corporate sponsors here on earth: Hallmark, Godiva, every South American rose farmer and Jared's) that they have no one to impose this 'holiday' upon – no one to impose it upon them. And I've been there – truth be told more often in my life than not.

Remember kindergarten when you had to send a valentine to everyone in your class? First grade, too? But then by second grade, something happened. Most teachers felt that you had developed friendships already and besides, parents do most of the work, so why torture them, too? But you fill out your 30 valentines because YOUR mom said that it wouldn't be nice if some kids didn't get any. Then you realize the next day that only two other moms besides yours felt that way. Which sucked. Because you only got those two valentines in your little doily decorated pouch. Then you realize in your 7 year old horror that you are expected to gloat in the lunch room so you fake an asthma attack so you can go to the nurses office instead. Which really sucked. And you panic every year thereafter. It's not always about not gettin' the love, though.

Sometimes love comes with a lot of expectations:

What about those poor gals ('cause let's face it – how many guys complain about being ignored on Valentine's Day?) that have to cajole their man into celebrating? Or the ones that get a small teddy bear holding a heart that says "Luv ya!" purchased with reluctance at the last minute at (insert gas station here)? Or the Really Nice Gal with the Evil Bay Mate? Our R.N.G. gets some flowers sent to work – she beams – so happy! But then Evil Bay Mate gets a HUGE bouquet from P.W. Boyfriend (and we all know that the W stands for 'whipped') who has to mortgage his house to pay for them. R.N.G. gives a watery smile & compliment (because she's Really Nice) and also because E.B.M. is gloating like the evil bitch she is…then giggles dismissively and pretends to be oh-so-sweet about the teensy bouquet sent with love and a human budget but she's really just a bitch and not-so-secretly happy that her man is more whipped than R.N.G.'s. "Ah! Mah! Gahd! And he's taking a second on the house and we're going to Santa Barbara for the weekend and he's treating me to ALL the spa services!!! Isn't he just the most whipped of all??" Yeah. Gag me. Call me when you're divorced. Better yet? Don't.

Here's a few for the gentlemen…how about those $400 dinners that cost $39.95 every other day of the year?? Or the $150 flowers that cost $12.99 February 13th or 15th? Or the $99.99 necklace you bought at Jared's but because commercials suck, she knows exactly how much you paid for it? And GOD FORBID you come over with just a teddy bear holding a heart…

And the evil high water mark of all…dreaded by both normal men and women alike: The Engagement. Every gal secretly wants it – every man secretly dreads it…is THIS the year? No? Maybe next? Or with the next guy? EVIL, I tell you! EVIL!! I'm convinced that this holiday has mutated into something meant to make you feel inadequate no matter WHO you are.

Expectations and commercialism have absolutely killed a little holiday that I believe that was started with noble intentions – tell someone special in your life – no matter who that is – that they are special. That's it. No flowers or stuffed animals or cards or dinners or any of that shit. Just an honest heart-felt word or two. Or action. Or anything. You feelin' me?

Most importantly, Love yourself – in the end that's the only thing that matters…

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