Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting a luvvy duvvy post today?
I truly dislike Valentines Day.
I know I’m a luvvy-duvvy romantic girl and I always write cheesy posts and file them under ‘l’amour’ - yes, I have an entire category reserved for love talk - but that’s on a normal day. February 14th brings out the beast in me.
The way I see it is this; I don't need an official day to tell me to be romantic. I will be romantic when I bloody well want to be romantic, thank you very much. I don’t need coercing into being nice to my boyfriend and wearing lacy lingerie just because the date says so. And frankly I can't think of anything worse than sitting in the middle of a dimly lit restaurant surrounded by tables of loved up couples whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. Well I've got news for you, loved up couples; those words of endearment are nothing more than involuntary convulsions controlled by the Devil’s Spawn, Hallmark. Indeed, did you know that Saint Valentine actually worked for Hallmark?
I wouldn’t mind so much if the holiday was, in fact, a holiday. If we all got a day off work then of course I would embrace Valentine’s Day and all that it brings – including the hideously freaky Cupid and his arrow (fat naked baby with a weapon…comment c’est romantique!) and the vulgar melange of pink and red everywhere you look (my eyes! They're burning with the ugliness of it all! Buuuuurning!).
Having said that I still ended up sending FP a card and a somewhat lengthy letter with curly handwriting and yes, I did even dot the occasional ‘i’ with a teeny weeny delicate loveheart. I hang my head in shame.Have a good one everybody.