Henry Marken
Dear Heroes,
To the gentlemen that know pain better than the names of your past elementary school teachers. To all you fallen soldiers that have endless left-on-read receipts and enough last minute cancelations from that special someone to write a Broadway musical. And of course, to the broken warriors that spend every Valentine’s Day evening next to an empty pizza box, about ready to break in a new bottle of lotion…
You probably saw a couple posts from people on social media celebrating this day with their respective partners. Let’s face it, you’ve seen more than a couple posts. That’s all you’re looking at right now. You might have got that annual phone call from your mother asking about the status of her future grandchildren. Hell, you probably got the vintage Drake albums playing on repeat.
I’m here to say that everything’s fine. Wipe that makeup off your face, you are not a circus clown. Valentine’s Day is just a day. This day is a manufactured holiday so that the Hallmark Channel can stay in business. I’d also like to have a chat with Saint Valentine himself, the tramp who created this dumpster fire.
Saint Valentine, what the fuck. First of all, February? That’s your month of choice to host your day of love? You had all 12 months at your disposal and you chose the middle of February? Half the U.S. is buried in snow with a crisp 8 degree climate outside. What are we supposed to do? Go out?
Happy Valentine’s Day, have fun with pneumonia!
My god. Who hurt you, Saint Valentine? Why couldn’t you pencil in a nice summer day for a universal day of love. I mean the trees don’t even have leaves on them right now. I tell you what, Saint Val wasn’t drinking wine in 260 AD, that guy was smoking crack.
I hope someone builds a brothel on the grounds of his grave.
If you’re a single guy on February 14, don’t sweat it. You’re good, man! Rep those grey sweatpants you woke up in and that will stay on until you go to sleep; rep them with pride.
There’s a lot of good you can take away from tonight. First of all, you are a hero because you’re potentially saving someone’s life by staying in, as there’s still a deadly pandemic still going around. Good for you. Take the day off, you earned it.
Second, you can save some money on food with eating for one. Get yourself a steak! I tell you what, you’ll win every argument about what to eat in the first place.
You can also watch whatever you want tonight, the TV is yours. Get yourself an adult film and light a candle. You can go spread eagle and sleep like a baby in that bed of yours while cuffed guys wake up with scoliosis from playing big spoon all night.
So keep your heads held high, Fellas. It’s just a day and then tomorrow it’s over. Tomorrow we’re all back to the same strange world where there’s more bloodthirsty sharks on Wall Street than there are in the entire Pacific Ocean and kids who play Fortnite can make 9 million dollars a year.
Your friend,
Henry
P.S. I’m in Rome, Italy right now with a construction crew ready to bulldoze Saint Val’s grave on a moment’s notice. My staff is locked, loaded, and fired up! Until then, what are you guys thinking in terms of names for the brothel I’m opening up?
I think the leaders in the names clubhouse are “Saint Val’s Cakehole” and “Priests After Dark.” My PR team isn’t too hot about the second one, so it might just be a one-horse race.
Written by geeds for geeds