Tag Archives: Valentine’s Day

Valentines I’ll Never Send

To the cliché box of assorted chocolates:

I’m have mixed feelings about you, to be honest. I’m not big on sweets to begin with, and unless there’s a map of your assortment on the lid, it’s always a gamble with you. There are really only three or four really good flavors which means that my anticipation of biting into a caramel or a chocolate cream could be met with the disappointment of sinking my teeth into the one filled with what I assume is neon pink Play-Doh.

If you so choose to continue to hide your best work, I will so choose to continue sticking a toothpick in the bottom of each piece to try and determine the flavor. All’s fair in love and chocolate.

To people who don’t say thank you when I hold the door open for them:

I will yell “You’re welcome!” as loud as I can because it’s important to lead by example. At least give a courtesy head nod. It’s really not that hard. I only bring this up because it could be an indication or a repeated behavior—not thanking people for letting you merge, walking by when people bless you after you sneeze, or as we’re talking about today, relationships.

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In other words, I’m a helper. YOU’RE WELCOME.

To the person who invented lasagna, pizza and basically any Italian food:

I hope at some point a very important person sat you down and told you, “You are a great human being.” True, I’ve been scorned by a lover a time or two by eating it too soon and burning the roof of my mouth, but love hurts. However, I can’t hold both a grudge and my fork, so today–I salute you.

To employment:

Okay. I know we’ve been taking a break, but I’m totally ready to hook back up again. I don’t want it to be boring, unhealthy and mundane like it was before, but I also don’t need fireworks every night. Something steady, something dependable, something that challenges me and uses my skills in a creative and constructive way. You have my number, so please, feel free to use it.

To the guy at the Dollar Store buying a felt rose, condoms and potted meat:

I’m not sure if I should be disgusted at this unique combination of purchases or admire you for your effort and optimism. The fake rose is admirable, but if you are in fact planning for a romantic evening with someone other than yourself—as your purchase of condoms instead of lotion and Kleenex would suggest—the addition of potted meat is quite troubling.

Putting aside the fact I only eat plants and would rather eat the metal pot than the “meat” your potted meat contains, the Dollar Store does offer a variety of other edible creations that might help to set a more “romantic” mood—canned oysters (aphrodisiac!) crackers or even a cupcake mix (chocolate!) might be a better solution.

And condoms from the Dollar Store? Remember that you get what you pay for, and take note of the woman behind me the other day who filled her cart with at-home pregnancy tests, ovulation kits and Cheetos. Sometimes you should spring for the upgraded model, my friend.

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Be Mine

I would be remiss if I didn’t at least mention Valentine’s Day—that holiday in between Christmas and Mother’s Day that card and flower companies use to guilt people into spending more money in an effort to show that they care.

I know. I’m a hopeless romantic.

But to be honest, even though I’m single and not willing to mingle, I really don’t mind Valentine’s Day. I like the decorations, the fact that I have a reason to bake and the image of a meddlesome cherub flying around armed with a weapon.

So to celebrate the holiday this year, I’ve decided to forgo sending myself a heartfelt card and instead explore a few viable Valentine options. (Food and drink suitors were excluded, as those are obviously tops on my list.)

My Shovel

We have been spending a great deal of intimate time together these past couple of months. It hasn’t been easy, but I have to admit that the shovel’s icy demeanor is oddly compatible to my own. Together we have made the neighbors jealous with our quick and thorough removal of things in our way—mostly large amounts of snow—which left me feeling slightly superior and a little bit cold.

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Okay. Mostly cold.

And while I get the feeling that as soon as things heat up it’ll be gone, I’m okay with the seasonal nature of our relationship. I like my space…and being warm.

My Couch

If by “afternoon delight” you mean coming home after work, watching “Ellen,” plodding away on the computer and then eating, we have a serious thing going and have for some time.

Our love is nothing new — my couch gets me, it really gets me. While it took me a long to let myself literally settle down and relax, I now find comfort—and often a stray piece of broccoli — in the confines of the cushions.

Scentsy

We were introduced this past Christmas by my mom, and given my love for smelly things and not being left in the dark, this combination nightlight/air freshener is basically all that is proper and good in this world. Never fussy, never needy, a simple flip of the switch radiates both light and light scents. I have to admit that I’m smitten.

Uncle June

This cranky bastard is still hanging around, and while he’s a good backup plan and travel companion, the drunk dials at 2am have seriously got to stop.

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However, I just can’t deny that creepy little face and the fact that he speaks not a word.

This Blog

We fall in and out of love, usually on a day-to-day basis. At times I feel like I don’t know what I would do without it, while other times I feel like it’s that pain-in-the-ass friend you have to constantly reassure isn’t a huge loser who nobody loves (and that no, their ass doesn’t look big in those pants.)

Our relationship has spanned years of good times and bad and evolved into something I never thought it would—a book, priceless connections, a reason to overshare and broadcast insecure rambles to strangers on the Internet.

But I suppose that’s just how love is—a wonderfully messy mix of delight, frustration and Internet stalking.

I know. I’m a hopeless romantic.

*This post was not sponsored by Scentsy. However, Uncle June slipped me $20 to mention him.

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Who is your Valentine this year?