My Bloody Annoying Valentine
An article about love and hate (mostly hate).

Well son of a bitch, folks, it would seem the 14th of February is on top of us once again. With the arrival of this date comes that most morbid and macabre of our society's annual celebrations. No, not Halloween—congratulations on the awesome guess though, you fucking idiot. If you'd be so kind as to take another glance at the title of this article and think real hard about the pun involved, you might figure out I'm talking about Valentine's Day. Upon this hallowed occasion, tradition dictates that we celebrate the birth of Saint Valentine by giving each other gifts of chocolates and ornate jewelry, presumably because ol' Val was a fatass diabetic drag queen (if there's any better explanation for our bizarre present-day rituals, the details lie buried deep within the sands of time).

As my lousy luck would have it, another beloved custom associated with this holiday is the practice of a sizable chunk of the population becoming absolutely fucking unbearable to be around whenever anyone mentions what day it is. The media uses Valentine's Day as an excuse to sort everyone into one of two groups: those with dates (the lovers), and those without dates (the loners). Of course, that's complete bullshit, since the active status of one's love life is totally irrelevant to anyone who isn't attempting to sell greeting cards and/or editable underwear. The sad truth is that we have a tendency to forget this fact when our paper-thin attention spans are distracted by a continuous bombardment of commercials advertising humungous boxes of candy and stuffed bears that get little furry erections when you squeeze their bellies. Hearing every radio station play nothing but classic love songs butchered by today's hackiest "artists" and seeing every store plastered in more bright red hearts than a Legend of Zelda status screen has a way of tricking us into thinking that our romantic pursuits are the defining aspect of our identities, as if whether or not we have someone to buy ludicrously overpriced flower arrangements for determines our worth as human beings. This societal hypnosis results in people who have a significant other suddenly being pumped full of a monstrous dose of unwarranted self-importance. Meanwhile, normally well-adjusted single men and women are inexplicably plunged into a severe depression that can only be cured by several pints of Ben & Jerry's, enough alcohol to knock out Whitney Houston (God rest her soul), and a whole heapin' load of torturous WHINING.

Whether folks go marching down Dumbass Street alone or in pairs, the common thread that ties them together is the way they transform into insufferable fuckheads the minute their local grocery store puts up those cupid decals in the front window display. Well I for one am sick and tired of the bullshit! Since everyone I've ever heard complain about the evils of Valentine's Day has deftly missed the point, I've decided to roll up my sleeves and go all unmedicated Mike Tyson on the REAL problem: the people who use this holiday as an excuse to behave like socially inept twits.

Strap yourselves in tight there, boys and girls, because we're headed straight for a rip-roaring Saint Valentine's Day massacre!

For the Lovers

For those of you who find yourselves in an active relationship come Valentine's Day, congratulations! Really, it's great that you have someone. Yes, I know, the world seems like a much happier place when you're in love. I should think you'd— Oh, food tastes better and colors seem brighter, do they? That's just won— God Almighty, I don't need to know how late you stayed up talking on the phone last night. I'm sure you— Are you seriously telling me how hot he looks in a tank top? Why the hell would I care ab— Wow, you went clothes shopping with her. So, you miss having testicles? I don't thi— Okay, that does it! Shut the hell up already! No, shut your— SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! HOLY LORD JESUS STOP TALKING TO ME!
 

I can be supportive and happy for people who find themselves in in any situation that makes them feel good. Really, I can. The thing is, there's a time limit on that shit. Me and the rest of the people on this planet you've apparently left behind don't actually give three-quarters of a shit if you have someone who makes you feel all warm and snuggly-wuggly inside. We're being nice and wearing these shit-eating grins because gosh darn it, that's what people do. But listening to you drone on endlessly about your LUV is one of the most irritating things you can hear coming out of another person's mouth that doesn't involve the lyrics to a Gwen Stefani song. Having someone blather on incessantly about any subject is tiresome, but putting up with stories of a love interest gets annoying especially fast for two reasons:

First, by always talking at length about someone else, you're essentially telling the people around you that you find their company less interesting than this other person's. Now, it's fine if your romantic interest provides you with a certain emotional stimulation that your platonic companions can't offer, but we as your comparably less exciting acquaintances don't need to hear that. If you find us so agonizingly dull to be around that we can't even hold your attention, then fuck off and go be with this magnificently amazing man or woman who ushers into your heart the fulfillment that us boring pieces of animal excrement can't possibly hope to give you. Otherwise, SHUT UP and quit being such a rude dipshit.

Second, no one wants to endure you running your noisehole about how goddamn magical it is to be in a relationship is because, believe it or not, most of us have been in our own relationships at one point or another. This guy right here included. We already know exactly what it feels like. Most of us also know that those incredible feelings you're experiencing are nothing more than endorphins surging through that shriveled ant testicle you call a brain, making you feel constantly elated while blinding you to the many, many, many flaws present in your sweetheart's personality. The reason we're rolling our eyes during your fifteen-hour-long speech about how lucky you are to have found your soulmate is because we're imagining how fucking funny it's going to be when the two of you get into a violent screaming match over which brand of Thousand Island dressing you should buy for your special dinner to celebrate your matching genital piercings.

Here we see what most couples imagine they look like to others...

Here's a fun fact about all couples everywhere: they fight. They fight about anything and everything. And the couples that have the most brutal, heart-rending, dream-shattering fights are the ones comprised of two idiots who allow themselves to be duped into thinking that their fairytale romance will help them triumph over whatever trials wind up in their shared path through life, because theirs is a TRUE LOVE that will conquer all. The second that illusion crumbles and you realize that your perfect mate is in fact a normal human being with all the problems and emotional baggage human beings tend you have, then you're just that much more likely to give everyone else in the restaurant a show as they place bets on which one of you will make the first move to stab the other with a fondue fork.

The go-to excuse for people in supposedly blissful relationships who are instructed by everyone they come into contact with to shut the fuck up about said blissful relationship is almost always the same: "You're just jealous of our happiness!" This is especially true if they talk at all about being in a sexually active relationship, because of course everyone else is just so bothered by the idea that anyone in the world besides them might be gettin' some. The thing is, I don't give a damn about sex unless I'm directly involved in it. For me, hearing a play-by-play of your pillow talk isn't a whole lot different from you telling me about goddamn mouth-wateringly delicious that gum is. Either share some or chew with your mouth closed so no words can come out. As you can see, that analogy only works if you're willing to let me screw your girl/boyfriend. Unless you're into that sort of thing, your story about how much fun they are in the sack is nothing but a pile of utterly useless information to me, not unlike a tourist pamphlet for a country that just yesterday became overthrown by bloodthirsty rebel forces whose god demands as many dead white people as they can manage. Go find someone who likes to install hidden cameras in truck stop bathrooms if you want a spellbound audience for your vivid tales of how you totally voided the warranty on that new sleeper sofa.

...And here we see something much closer to what most couples actually look like.

Jealously doesn't automatically occur just because you have something that someone else doesn't (I'm not jealous of people who have cancerous tumors jutting out of their eyelids, for example). In order to make people jealous, you have to possess something they want. Not everyone is going to be tackled by the green-eyed monster upon hearing about your shrine to mutual delusion and stupid bullshit like exchanging tacky gifts for the three-week anniversary of the first time you heard each other fart. So be careful before you play the "ZOMG U SO JELLY" card, because the odds are against anyone being anywhere near as envious of you and your "other half" as you'd like to believe they are.

By the way, if you do ever refer to your date/lover/spouse/prostitute as your "other half", please kill yourself. I'm not even joking about that. If you have used the phrase "my other half" to describe a romantic interest with no hint of irony or sarcasm, you need to end your own life. I mean it. Kill yourself right now and stop wasting my oxygen molecules. Did you ever even stop to think about what a pathetic-ass thing that is to say? By declaring someone your "other half", you're flat-out telling yourself and everyone around you that you are half of a person. Only some little pissant weakling would need a whole second person to complete them. Here's a fun thought: grow the fuck up, be your OWN person, and go out into the world seeking another whole, equally self-assured individual who is interested in being with you for the affection and companionship and not some debilitating fear of facing life by themselves because it's too scary to function without someone holding their hand all the time.

For the Loners

Speaking of miserably insecure social outcasts, let's talk a little about the other group of people who are responsible for my yearly tradition of drinking myself into the emergency room at least once every February. As intolerable as people who have dates become as Valentine's Day approaches, being around the people without dates somehow manages to make for an even worse experience. It's like having someone steal your brand new $170,000 Mercedes-Benz, then coming back to run you over with it. Or, to go with an analogy you dateless geeks will be more familiar with, it's like in a JRPG when you finally beat the final boss, only to find he has an even tougher second form you can only damage if you got a special weapon upgrade back on disc two. Then you find out your Yoko Littner body pillow cover shrank in the wash.

To be fair, I understand it can be difficult to keep a smile on your face when society seems to have created a multi-billion dollar corporate marketing campaign designed for the sole purpose of making you feel like a worthless waste of life because you don't have any reason to walk into Heart-Shaped Crap "R" Us and spend money. I'm not going to tell anyone they don't have the right to be a little depressed when every company on Earth seems hell-bent on reminding them that they're alone on the one day when nobody is supposed to be. HOWEVER—and this is fucking important, folks—there is a world of difference between allowing yourself to be mildly depressed for a short period of time and launching into a month-long BITCHFEST where you make it your mission in life to drag every single person around you down into your self-styled pit of despair.

"Oooohhh GOD, the PAIN! The searing pain of LONELINESS piercing my soul! Look at all the happy couples in the sitcoms and Hallmark Channel Original Movies I watch all day! Why oh WHY must I sleep ALONE at night!?! I'm going to DIE alone and unloved, my wretched existence cursed by—*BANG! BANG! BANG!*"

Yes, that is exactly what you sound like, you walking lump of congealed embarrassment. And if you're curious, that part at the end there was the sound of me attempting to shoot your tongue out of your mouth with a semi-automatic shotgun.

Let's break this down before someone snaps and breaks open your skull: You're upset because you're not in a relationship, right? Why? What exactly are you hoping to get out of a love interest that you can't attain from any other source? Human contact? Nope, you can get that from pretty much anyone that your bitching hasn't chased off. Emotional support? Boy howdy, are you a catch! Most potential suitors will put up with playing the role of your personal self-esteem coach for all of five minutes before bailing, usually right after setting you and/or themselves on fire. Are you looking for a date purely for sexual gratification? If so, it might interest you to know that you're currently mere seconds away from approximately fourteen billion hours of free internet pornography. Taking care of business yourself is nothing to be ashamed of if it prevents you from doing something monumentally stupid like going out and getting some poor girl pregnant because she's a bad judge of character and can't hold her liquor—or even worse, being that poor girl and letting some deadbeat loser put a genetically subpar bun in your oven because you were this close to swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills if you had to go one more day without having a man tell you that you're pretty.

The most likely reason you're so frantically desperate to be in a relationship is because you want to have achieved the status of being in a relationship. Our culture has glorified the concept of dating to such an absurd extent that the social network generation has come to view being single as a temporary transitional phase where idling for more than a few minutes means something has gone horribly wrong. And because you're a MORON, you bought the load that being dateless is a form of living damnation where finding real happiness is impossible because you'll never be as truly happy as you can be when you're with that special someone who emits calming pheromones, smiles radiant beams of life-affirming sunshine, and pisses your favorite brand of soft drink. You're so hopelessly in love with the idea of being in love that it doesn't even matter who or what you're in love with. You're the reason the furry fandom exists, because sad sacks like you kept dropping their standards progressively lower until they reached the point where putting on diapers and jumping into a fox costume to hump strangers in a convention hall somehow seemed preferable to remaining single and sane.

Take a good look, crybabies, because this is what you're one step away

from becoming. Yep, I'm talking soiled pants and everything.

Now, maybe there's some truth to the notion that being in an intimate relationship has certain benefits (and I'm not just talking about the "naughty" stuff like wearing each other's underpants at parties or getting into tag-team switchblade fights with homeless people when you're both high out of your minds on ecstasy and Sudafed). Being around someone you're attracted to and genuinely compatible with won't turn every mundane activity into an adrenaline-pumping thrill ride of passion, but it does have a way of making the good days a little bit better. Just don't expect anyone to walk into your gloomy world of perpetual torment and transform it into nirvana—the only one who can rescue you from your own personal hell is YOU, because you're the damn fool who built that hell around yourself in the first place. If what you're looking for in a partner is someone who can provide you with a magical gateway to emotional wellbeing, then you'd better get used to being alone.

Oh, what's that? You don't want to be alone? You once read an inspirational bumper sticker that said you deserve to find the love of your life? Hey. HEY! STOP FUCKING CRYING! If you do want to be with someone, Step One is dropping that obnoxious sense of entitlement. You don't deserve jack shit! Finding someone you enjoy spending time with is a bonus you only have a chance of getting if you're able to develop the guts to go out and find some modicum of happiness on your own. Any other way of thinking will only result in you becoming so desperate for affection that you latch onto the first person who doesn't mace you when you tackle them screeching "LOOOOVE MEEEEEE~!!"

Remember how I said earlier that all couples fight? Go ahead and call up your good friend the professional relationship counselor with a master's degree in psychology if you don't believe me. Otherwise, I guess you're stuck taking my word for it that arguing is a fundamental aspect of human nature. Even people who actually belong together will have arguments. The goal is to find someone you like being around enough that the arguments are worth it. If you're an imbecile who charges into a bad relationship because you're terrified of being alone, then good luck surviving that nightmarish existence of constant bickering and discord you just signed yourself up for. There's a very good reason why the divorce rate is so insanely high. You didn't notice it because you were too busy sobbing into the phone while I made a note to get my number changed, but there ARE worse things than being alone.

Clean off that runny mascara, buck the hell up, and stop acting like you're some kind of victim! If nothing else, being single means you have freedom. Enjoy it now in case you do ever find someone you want to be with. That way, there's less of a chance you'll end up sabotaging what could have been a successful relationship because you never did anything by yourself and now you're feeling smothered by the person your retarded fantasies told you would convert your life into a marathon of unbridled joy.

For the Rest

While the losers described above make me sicker than those candy hearts that taste like sidewalk chalk mixed with some confectioner's loathing for his fellow man, I know the cocky couples and whimpering wallflowers belong in the minority. Believe it or not, the purpose of this soapbox session isn't to denounce Valentine's Day itself or convince anyone not to celebrate it. The whole ordeal is a soulless corporate ploy designed to empty people's pockets, yeah, but who honestly gives a damn. If you can have some fun playing the game and avoid being a grating asshole while you do it, then I say go for it. Just remember the many benefits of keeping your mouth shut and not annoying the piss out of the people around you.

Before I wrap this up, one thing about the preceding material I'd like to quickly address is my practice of referring to male/female couples. Since the majority of my readers are probably involved in (or tearfully wishing they were in) heterosexual relationships, it's simply easier for me to go with the default man-and-woman scenario for the sake of avoiding a lot of unnecessary extra pronouns. That said, anyone who reads this site knows I'm nothing if not a stickler for political correctness! Every golden nugget of angry advice I've laid out above also applies to same-sex couples. My experiences have taught me that members of the LGBT crowd are in no way immune to Saint Valentine's dark influence, and are capable of being every bit as whiny and obnoxious as straight people. If that realization alone doesn't break down some walls and aid the advancement of gay rights, then I don't know what will.

Man or woman, gay or straight, ugly or obviously Photoshopped, here's to all the lovers and the loners who are considerate enough to live their lives and let the rest of us enjoy a little peace and quiet in the process. You kids are alright.

Alex Barry - 2/14/12

Revised edition posted on 2/14/13