I haven’t spent February 14th with a girlfriend since I was a senior in high school and my then girlfriend surprised me with a giant plush Valentine’s Day skunk soaked in Tommy Girl perfume.
Yea. Let that sink in for a moment. Ri-dic-u-lous.
I was listening to the radio last week and I heard that the average non-single American spends about $75 on his/her gf/bf/wife/husband/fiance/fiancee/whatever on Valentine’s Day. Wasn’t it just Christmas like…a month and a half ago?! This shit is getting a little out of hand. Also, the average is $75. That means the guys are spending about $145 and the girls are spending about $5. We’ll get into why that’s fucked up another time.
So, why does it have to be a fucking money-spending contest? “Look, woman, I just gave you diamonds at Christmas, you’re getting dinner and sex and you’re going to like it!” I’m almost certain the Tommy Girl skunk didn’t cost anywhere close to $75, and now whenever I smell Tommy Girl, I…get a boner. Side note: that’s also true of Lubriderm hand-lotion (way cheaper than $5). What?! I love having soft skin! But seriously, that gift changed my fucking life. As a boy, you can get a boner at any given time for no reason whatsoever. As a man………you can get a boner at any given time……for no reason whatsoever. Ok, I give up on that thought. Moving on!
Anyway, Valentine’s Day originated to honor Christian martyr St. Valentine. So, even though the whole romantic thing didn’t start until hundreds of years later, I like to think that St. Valentine died so we could spend way too much on our significant others and have wine-drunken sex on February 14th.
Some of you are thinking, “now, wait a minute, I give gifts because I care!” This isn’t in reference to you, ladies. I know women give gifts because they care (it’s easy for $5), but men give gifts because they want to have sex. “Oh, jeez, Valentine’s Day isn’t about sex!!!” Really? Well, guess what? It is about sex and it’s your fault. Men make Valentine’s dinner reservations at fancy Italian restaurants because we know you love that shit! On Valentine’s Day, all any regular guy has to do is take you to a romantically-lit Italian place, get you loaded on wine, tell you how good you look and then bingo, bango, bongo, with a little help from Frank Sinatra, your clothes are on the floor in the corner.
That makes me want to re-think what I said earlier about St. Valentine. In reality, St. Valentine died to save regular dudes from the horrible, sexless existences we might be doomed to otherwise. What a fucking guy!
That said, if a regular dude with whom you are not currently involved asks you to be his valentine, don’t go freaking out and calling mom and dad and all of that silly bullshit just yet. More than likely, all he’s really telling you is that he thinks you’ll sleep with him just because it’s Valentine’s Day. “But he’s taking me out to a nice dinner!” Is Frank Sinatra singing, “Fly Me to the Moon?” You’re his once per year. Deal with it.
Now, I’m aware that this may seem completely fucking abrupt, but I’m out of stuff to say. So, ladies?
We know you’re all nymphos. Stop trying to hide it. You might as well just spend that $5 on condoms, put on something cute and come over.
May your Valentine’s Day be filled with lots of wine, candlelight and nudity.
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