And as surely as the world turns and revolves around the sun, so too has Valentine’s Day come again to this planet.
This is also Day 2 of Single Awareness Half-Week, or, if you’re a purist, Single Awareness Day.
But don’t be bitter, Singletonians. Today’s post is all for you. You know how some of your friends in relationships are just dicks when it comes to Valentine’s Day? 364 days a year, they’re all, “Bronsen is such a dumbass. I’ve had it up to here. I’m totally breaking up with him.” But for one magical day a year, hearts and rainbows pour forth from their ladybits and candy hearts rain down from their mouths and they post, every hour on the hour, Facebook statuses that say things like, “I know we’ve had our differences, but I have the best boyfriend in the world. Happy Valentine’s Day Schmoops! I know we’ll be together forever.” or “Woke up this morning to 7,000 hot pink roses and my amazing boyfriend Bronsen playing 'Collide' on his guitar…..naked! Best Boyfriend EVER!!!!”
OK, fine. Bronsen, I’ve gotta give it to you. If you’re dedicated enough to put up with her ridiculously unattainable expectations and play the most romantic song of the first decade of this century naked with your man berries out for all to see, well, I won’t give you shit. I could. Know, Bronsen, that I could. But I won’t… mostly because I know your girlfriend really, really well and I know that you’re a saint, you magnificent, nude, guitar-playing sonofabitch.
I promise, I’m not bitter. But I grew up with Valentine’s Day being kind of a wash.
Let me correct that. When I was little, Valentine’s Day was awesome, but I’m sure for my parents it was… less so?
You see, I, being the
precocious considerate pain in the ass that I was as a child,
insisted on being included in my parents’ Valentine’s Day festivities. (Not like that, you pervs.) So my
dad would always cook this really fancy meal for my mom and Kraft Mac &
Cheese with hot dogs cut up in it for Kara and I. There would be wine for them
and grape juice for us, all of which would end up on me and the beige carpet.
(It’s fine. It’s not a thing.) We would light candles and give our parents
cards that we made with silly putty and macaroni noodles. Kara and I thought it
was magical. My parents insist that they wouldn't have had it any other way and cherish those memories. And I don’t not believe them - because they're awesome and the most terrific parents in the world. But it’s kind of like the time when we were at
this hippie bed and breakfast in Washington state and the foot of Mount Rainier
and there was a clothing-optional hot tub and I took the hint but my sister didn't and sat in between my parents in the hot tub, all fully clothed, for 20 minutes
before astutely noticing and then pointing out, “I bet you guys wish I wasn't in
here right now.” ...But then not leaving. I
think, for my parents, Valentine’s Day was sort of like that.
So, growing up, I thought of it as a family affair. And then, when I reached a viable, date-me-if-you-are-brave-enough-to-risk-my-dad’s-wrath age, I either went out with boys who were clueless or douchebags. There was no middle ground. Mostly. So Valentine’s Day was always a huge disappointment. As in, “Hey babe, don’t expect me to get you anything for Valentine’s Day. Because I’m not. …I’m serious. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up” disappointing.
I participated in my fair share of Single Awareness Days, too. Hell, I still like to celebrate the traditional rites of SAD: eating an entire box of chocolate truffles and then the whole bag of fancy shredded cheddar from the fridge that’s going to expire in two days, watching B-grade 1950’s horror movies, and drinking wine until I fall asleep
gracefully with my
tongue lolling out of my face on the couch.
(Note to Carter: This is happening tonight. Sorry if you had romance plans. We will be watching The Killer Shrews and cleaning out the cheese drawer. Don’t let me bite my tongue off.)
But having shitty Valentine’s Days for much of my adolescence and adulthood has made me sensitive. After all, if you’re single and not ridiculously proud of it, Valentine’s Day is kind of a “F*ck you! You’re alone! You know how I know?! Because no one brought you flowers, candy, or a Build-A-Bear and you’re sitting on your couch eating cheese and watching Night Court on Netflix! Better luck next year, sucker!” from the Universe. At least, it can sometimes feel like that. If you are single because you want to be, you are obviously the exception and a magical unicorn of a person and you should take this day to eat chocolate and bask in your independence, relishing the fact that no one can call it “letting yourself go.” You’re the lucky ones, my friends.
And so, in honor of this day, I have compiled a handy list for those of you who aren't as sensitive as I am, i.e. didn't spend your first 12 Valentine’s Days with your parents and the following 8 (before Carter, or B.C.) with a broad cast of weirdos who thought that taking you to play with their brother’s ferret (a literal ferret) was a good idea for a Valentine’s Day date.
How to Celebrate Valentine’s Day in a Way That Won’t Make Your Single Friends Want to Murder You
Give your sweetheart a bouquet of a dozen roses made of bacon. And if you receive bacon flowers, share a meaty, delicious “flower” with your single friend(s). Can’t nobody want to murder you when they’re eating crispy, delicious, free bacon. …unless they are vegans or vegetarians. If your friends are of either of these lifestyles, hide your bacon roses in your file cabinet and insist that they must be having a stroke when they keep insisting that they smell smoked meats in the office. Everybody wins, you see, because then it’s like you never got a gift delivered to you at work at all and you are, therefore, all in the same boat still!
Take your sweetheart bowling. There’s nothing more un-sexy than bowling. All of your friends will thank their lucky stars for their singleness. “Well, I’m not getting laid on the regular, but at least I don’t have to wear used shoes and put my manicure in used balls.”
Accidentally send your single friends a sext (Note: "sext" means a text of a sexual or naughty nature). It will be awkward for them to read a text message from you that says, “Just you wait until I get home tonight. I’m gonna make you scream “Banana Joe” until you’re hoarse. And then we’re gonna cuddle. Hard.” It will be awkward, but they will appreciate the gesture. Maybe. Or they will take a screenshot of it and post it all over every social media outlet at their fingertips. And then you will be very embarrassed. But you will have made their Valentine’s Day a memorable, happy occasion and so you should suck it up and deal with it.
(Note: As I stated the other day, I cannot write sex scenes. I have now proven, it would seem, that I cannot sext either. Sorry, Carter. You’ll just have to settle for me texting you pictures of Tardar Sauce and weird memes about how one does not simply just walk into Mordor.)
Have your date in a tavern on the plains of Azeroth
Rather than go to a fancy restaurant with your sweetheart, order the surf ‘n’ turf, and then post the pictures of you feeding tiramisu to your honey all over Facebook, why not stay at home in your sweatpants with your headset on and have a romantic date in one of the many taverns on the plain of Azeroth, the mythical land of World of Warcraft. Just be sure to leave your battle ostrich outside. Battle ostriches make the ladies say “Hey boy hey” and, while you will get dozens of invitations to various quests, you will also likely be frozen out of the mystical land of IJustHadSex by your date. You have been warned.
Because everyone loves a good, viciously competitive game of Yahtzee. And then, at your friends’ Single Awareness Day gatherings at the local watering hole, they can console themselves about still being young enough and free enough to be out, single, and ready to mingle. “Because if being married means I have to give up Thursday night Happy Hours at the Horny Barracuda to play Yahtzee, then f*ck it. I’m never getting married!” (But I've said it once, and I'll say it again - Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togever today.)
Include your single friends in a threesome
Or not. It’s up to you.
(Note: This was Carter’s suggestion. And while I laughed out loud when he suggested it, and still think it’s hilarious [no really, I’m laughing as I type this], it may offend your single friends more than titillate them. Plus you have to share, then. And no one likes that.)
Whiplash is an excellent way to show your sweetheart how much you care in a way that will not make your single friends want to stab you in the eye with an oyster fork. Vivid, I know.
Host a Zombie Prom
Really, what better way to celebrate Valentine’s Day in a way that is both fun, whimisical, and not annoying-to-the-point-of-murder than pretending to eat your loved one’s brains? ….and, subsequently, the brains of all your prom guests. It’s macabre, it’s a little bit disturbing, but – and this is the ultimate goal here, people – it will be both inclusive and lighthearted.
Remind them that they never have to share DVR space, the bed, hot water, or the refrigerator.
Post an ironic or out of place picture of a pterodactyl on your sweetheart's wall and tell them that “I Dino Know What I’d Do Without You”
If you do this, you just look like the weird-ass who spent all morning and maybe some time in the potty trolling the internet troughs for an awesome dinosaur valentine, only to give up, go onto a meme-generator, and make one yourself. And, of course, you are that weird-ass and I love you for it. Because you did. And while your single friends will look at your valentine Facebook post to your honey-bunny and think to themselves that “Wow, they must have really weird sex if that is her idea of an ironically romantic valentine post,” they will also appreciate the fact that they didn't waste the previous 51 happy hours with you bitching about how your boyfriend is an inconsiderate ass-monkey just so you could shower him with affection on the one day a year when you two are nice to each other. And they will thank you for it by not responding with a super passive-aggressive Facebook status of their own that says something like, “Gee, I’m so glad I waste two hours of my week, every week, listening to SOMEONE blow smoke up my ass about how shitty SOMEONE’s boyfriend is, but that for today only, SOMEONE thinks he’s the most amazing, perfect, considerate man in the word. I don’t need that time back. It’s only my biological clock. I could have been on a date with that doctor who asked for my number. But no, you’re right, SOMEONE, my time was better spent with you. Dick.”
Because they’ll totally say something like that. Facebook: where passive-aggression has settled down and made a nest. And it’s glorious.
I hope these tips were helpful or, at the very least, amusing. If any of you Singletonians were offended, I offer you my most profound apologies. Let me extend to you a hearty handshake of friendship and my wishes that you not only find your Lobsters, but that you also find your sense of humor as well.
That seems like the natural place to end this post. But I’m not going to, because I’ve still got one more piece of business to attend to. The lovely Loki-Lou at The Modfather has nominated me for the Authentic Voice Award. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Loki-Lou! And to those of you who have not moseyed on over to her blog, you must do so now. She’s witty, bright, and always has something interesting to say. And I’m jealous that she has such words in her vocabulary as “stroppy.” (It just sounds weird in my mouth. One can’t say, “Stop being so stroppy, y’all.”)
Since this award seemingly has no rules, I’m taking this opportunity to make them up as I go. If you read Nested and have a blog, I nominate you for this award! Consider it my Valentine to you! And then you, in turn, can make up your own rules and this award can just get really bizarre as it travels forth from me, and, as with the Amish Friendship Bread we all dread finding in our mailboxes which never ever makes it out of my house and instead sits on my counter until it turns green and I begin to self-loathe enough to throw it away, even though I know that I will be depriving dozens of people the opportunity to knead and caress a dough ball 12 times a day for 234 days before passing it on, you can blame it all on me.
Shit, that was a long sentence. Did that sentence read as fast as I typed it? I certainly hope so.
Anyways, I hope that you all have the happiest of Valentine’s Days or Single Awareness Days or any other holiday which you choose to celebrate on this auspicious Thursday. Wishing you, at the very least, love, happiness, and whatever you want to feed yourself today, all guilt free.
And I would also like to take the opportunity on this, the holiday of love, to tell you all how much I appreciate your readership and support. I love you mucho, kittens. I really, really do.
Hugs and kisses, y’all!