Fuckin' Romantic!

I was admiring the diamond bracelet silently, holding it up to the light and trying my best to be unimpressed. Jeeves the jeweler tried to keep his poise. “I assure you sir, those diamonds are of the highest quality.”

“Mmm,” I said, nice and bland, not giving anything away.

“Half a village was killed in the mines those diamonds came from.”

“Hmm,” I replied, “How many orphans did this particular bracelet make?”

“Oh,” he said, pulling out some cards. As he leafed through them, I laid it on thick.

“I’m not sure how my wife will know I love her if there were no orphans made harvesting those gems.”

“No, no, sir—I’m sure there were orphans! Ah, here we are,” he replied, brandishing the card with the proper stats. “Twelve orphans were made and TWO of those orphans died securing those bracelet’s gems.”

“Jeeves you son of a bitch, you just sold a diamond bracelet! Looks like I’ll be putting it in her ass tonight!”

Once upon a time, Valentine’s Day was a holiday for lovers. Both parties exchanged love notes (not just the men, ladies). The powers of Western laziness and advertising firmly warped this into the canned messages that is the greeting card we all know and love today.

Sadly, Valentine’s, like so many of our holidays, has degraded to one big fat reason to spend money on shit you really don’t need. Flowers that die and cards written by someone else to throw away. I hear guys bitching about having to buy presents, and if they don’t—they’re in Shitville, which rests in the fine country of NotGettingLaidia.

Worse than that is the anxiety I hear from the poor bastard who failed to please last year, so this year his gift has got be so good it obliterates all the memories of last year. Pressure’s on, douche! Welcome to the wide world of conditional love.

I’m not sure how it all goes down in the gay community—or if they’re even allowed to celebrate Valentine’s Day when a Republican is in the Whitehouse.

I do think it is good for some couples. I’ve been a cook before and Valentine’s is a big night for restaurants (and hookers), and I can remember looking out across the sitting floor and spotting those couples who go out three times a year—Valentine’s, their wedding anniversary and her birthday (which makes you ladies born on Valentine’s quite a commodity—but look out if you man wants to wed you on Feb 14th too, that’s just greedy).

I don’t have that kind of relationship with my wife. Every year to show her she’s special I make her something cute to exemplify my fierce love. This year, I’ve hand crafted her a three foot tall teddy bear, all made from my shaved back.* It only took half the supply though, so if any of you lesser men need a lender—hit me up.

Let’s break down the average V-day scenario: you go out on a dinner date, buy her a present(candies, flowers, certified orphan maker jewelry, etc), and get laid. What a great deviation from typical courtship! Why not get all crazy and go see a movie too?

And the phrase “be my valentine” suggests it’s an option. Pure bullshit! If you’re in a relationship it’s not like you can tell your significant other they didn’t make the cut this year—but her sister did. Better luck next year little miss sensitive gag reflex. It should be, “You’re my Valentine—deal with it.”

*Nah, we just get a hooker.