Hey, Saturday is Valentine’s Day, everyone. Love it. I wanted to take this opportunity to wish the readership of this website a great day filled with love, respect, and joy. I frequent the columns about sexual freedom (GIRLS WRITING ABOUT BJS??!?!!?) and conquest (THREE PUMPS?!?!). I read your comments about faces and where on them you’d like to sit. I know this is an important day for all of you.
To the men who read this website: I want to wish you the very best of Valentine’s days.
To the guys who have been dating a girl for a few months, have no idea what to call this middle period of the semi-relationship, and figure the best way to spend the day is to just disappear: You’re the stuff of legend and lore, the necessary black between stars.
To the young man with that college girlfriend who decided dinner and flowers are the perfect gifts for his girlfriend — so perfect, in fact, he figured his parents would gladly pay for it on the emergency credit card: Have a fantastic evening, and make sure to tell the homeless guy outside the restaurant to “get a job” under your breath as you speed up your stride.
To the single men — the heroes, really — who see this as a day of hunting big game with a bazooka and coolers full of red meat: I wish you a fine day of preying off the emotions of girls who have convinced themselves that this day matters A LOT and believe that life is only a long, nightmarish reminder of their singlehood. Their sex with you will be the saddest of their lives, while you are destined to remember it as “kind of cool.”
And to the relationship guys, who will awkwardly rub their penis into their girl’s butt because they read a hashtag about “butt stuff” on a website where a guy writes under a nickname that he gave himself: Her decision will depend entirely on a mystical combination of how much she likes you and how much she hates herself. Good luck!
I’d be remiss if I forgot to talk about my female readership (Jessica, Brittany, and Carly — hey guys): To you, the women who pass through these muddled attempts at irony and wit, I want to wish you the very best this Saturday, as well. A day filled with veiled half-brags about your boyfriend (“Oh, I just know he’s going to plan something SO cheesy and romantic, ugh”). Social media posts about your “best friend” you just met a few months ago who doesn’t know your sister’s name (I hope the meticulously arranged still life of flowers and a Tiffany’s box — and maybe a mug of coffee to make it look oh so casual — turns out perfectly). I’m so pleased your life is defined in the shadow of someone else’s and that meaningless competition paints your soul even blacker.
To all the single ladies: I wish you a day filled with jokes like, “Who needs a boyfriend when I have pizza?” which show all of those available men your hilarity and confidence all at once. While they just lurk, waiting for you to be drunk and vulnerable enough to have sad sex. Perhaps you’ll go out to dinner with your single girlfriends and laugh a little too loud, drink a little too much, and ignore — for a moment — the despair that fills most of your day: the gnawing need to share something, anything, intimately and un-self-consciously. You’re probably not worthy of someone else’s love, but hey, you can always buy a small dog.
What a day of insecurity, fear, and occasional love. Let’s never forget that St. Valentine was beaten, stoned, and beheaded in the end. Fitting tribute to a man who created so much misery. Fuck this shit. Kara, you bitch. Call me back..