I Hate Valentines Day! Arrrrgh!

The Cemetery Where My Love Life Resides Permanently.












That's right. I hate Valentines Day with every fiber of my five foot five being. If Cupid actually existed I'd hunt him down, chop him up with an axe, stick his corpse in a cast iron box, weld it shut, bury him twenty feet deep, then build a shopping mall  over top of his grave.

During this time of year love is in the air and poor schmucks like me have to stand on the outside looking in on couples who are so cute you wanna douse 'em with gasoline then light a match  as they bill and coo to the point of creating nausea.

As for me, I just survived a kind of semi-date where the woman whom I had taken a fancy to told me she wasn't interested in any type of relationship. She's the kind of women I've been meeting as of late. Wounded birds who, because of a  bad marriage or relationship that soured quicker than a quart of milk left out of the refrigerator on a ninety degree day, have no interest in romance. They want to be (okay guys, say it along with me)" just friends. "

Well, I don't want another friend. I want a girlfriend, a lover, a significant other. Don't give me second place. That's dead ass time. I want the big prize; nothing else is acceptable. I once told a woman who handed me that well worn phrase if she wanted a friend to go to the local A.S.P.C.A and get herself a Goddamn dog.

Hell, my luck is so shitty I asked a co-worker ,who is hardly the hottest babe on the beach to be honest about it, out on a date and was turned down quicker than a bad idea. I mean, everyone should have a positive self image. But this woman with bad skin and a less than curvy figure is overdoing it a tad, I do think. She's much too picky for her own good. As for her reason, I'd need a eight year degree in psychology to figure that out and even then I don't think I could come up with a definitive answer.

So this Valentines Day(like last year and the year before) I'll be all be my little lonesome enjoying heaping bowlfuls of my own bitter stew. I may just call off of work to sit home and sulk. I must admit I have mastered the art of sulking. In fact, I've elevated it to an art form. I'll already be in a crappy mood; seeing couples in love holding hands just might make my day that much more crappier and I need that like I need an ass full of hemorrhoids.

However, if by next year I do find that special lady to share my life with, I'll be too happily in love to do any beefing, griping, bitching or grousing. Hopefully, I'll be totally head over heels in love and will be boring you with the all of the sappy details. But the way my miserable excuse for luck is going I wouldn't place any bets on it.