It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I’m not going out of the house. Just as well... the awesome delivery of cards, flowers, chocolates and other tokens of endearment and hopeless devotion would only have prevented me from getting out the door. Not to mention the queue of eligible bachelors snaking its way down the corridor of the apartment. So depressed. I have lived through twenty-one (count ‘em, 21!) Valentine’s Days without a single molecule of affection from a member of the opposite sex on the 14th of February. Why, why, why do I never have boyfriends in February? All that flowerey-chocolatey-romancey-pukey shit?! I NEED ALL OF THAT! I am going to wear all black tomorrow. And I’m going to mope around all day feeling very, very sorry for myself. I am going to scowl and grimace at regular intervals, and sigh heavily and dramatically. That’s my fucking celebration – bring on the boys.
1 comment:
Funny that. I'm married and I still don't get the flowery-chocolatey-romancey-pukey shit. So you weren't really missing anything.
Maggie
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