Indignant, Lonely

So, you hate Valentine’s Day

I recognize that I’m a little late to be posting my rant against Valentine’s Day, but I’ve been busy performing and whatnot. Come see our show on the 24th if you are in New York.

My issue with Valentine’s Day is the people who say they “don’t believe in Valentine’s Day.” First of all: nobody believes in St. Valentine and his magical arrows that make greeting cards, second of all: stop being so annoying. Sure, I hate Valentine’s day because it asks us to love on only one specific day of the year, but that’s the problem with all holidays that don’t involve eating (stuffing your face full of too much food being something that would be unhealthy to do every day of the year). If you hate V-day because of it’s clicheness and it’s demand for the commercialization of emotion, then you have to hate Christmas, Easter, Halloween, St. Patty’s day, and capitalism. But, you don’t because you don’t actually dislike the day of love paper for any of the reasons you claim, but rather because you hate relationships.

Valentine’s day reminds us not of the fact that we aren’t getting laid, nor of the fact that we’re in a loveless relationship where we’re forced to buy chocolate out of spite, but rather reminds us of other Valentine’s Days in the past. The human memory feels a lot of hate towards its owner, but only because it wants to keep it safe. We tend to remember the worst parts of our lives in detail and the best as though looking through the eye doctor thing on the setting that is not better but worse. This means that every Valentine’s Day, no matter how happy of a relationship you are pretending to be in, you only remember that one time that girl made you buy her flowers that turned out to be the wrong ones, or that guy stood you up at your parent’s dance¬†recital, or you cried into your hand for lube so that you could masturbate yourself to sleep and forget the torturous world you live in and escape to dreamland.

My solution: suck it up. Hate all holidays if you want to rant indignantly about the problems with equating cliched pieces of paper with love, and if you are genuinely fine with those cliches realize that that is okay too – just stop dwelling on the time your dick got caught in the wall you were trying to fuck for comfort. Also realize that the only think more cliched than Valentine’s Day is hating Valentine’s Day.


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