Conclusion about Valentines: a plot against womankind
I find this festivity generally annoying and overdone, and not because I have anything against love –I am in love- but because I believe this so called… celebration is a plot against womankind:
Origins – Where the story comes from is as confusing as season three of Lost. One of the legends around tells that this Valentine dude was a troublemaker priest in roman times that married people illegally. Because of that, they put him in jail and there he started fencing the guard ´s daughter –with whom he would do the nasty with, until he was sentenced to death. Maybe this should be about lust, not love, one wonders, but anyway… where the hell come a half-naked chubby child, in February and carrying weapons?
The roses – If you are greeted in a restaurant with a dozen roses, what the hell do you do al night long with the flowers? Tables are small because the need to create “intimacy”, and you end up putting the flowers on the floor. And probably you will end up holding them awkwardly the rest of the night – not good for making out purposes.
The romantic dinner with aphrodisiac foods – You have been starving probably for at some weeks before the V-day, and you are hungry, weak and pissed off. You are dying to eat even the golden letter on the chocolate box but you wont because is dinnertime and you are not about to ruin it. But dinner comes and you only see oysters (alive) garlic, beets, asparagus and if you are really, really lucky, Fugu liver with deer penis wine.
(gaging – recompose – gag again – reapply lipstick)
The chocolate – Now you can pig out freely with all the chocolate you want, and you do because today you are allowed, but because you have been starving for a while, you have a knot on your stomach and visions of pimples covering your face in the next two days appear on your mind forbidding you to allow yourself any pleasure.
The sex – Sure! you are in a great self-confidence moment right after pigging out savagely on the chocolate. Very ready for some sexy time, right? Right… Apparently, we don’t have enough stage fright when naked in front of a man in normal circumstances, that we need to wear slutty red underwear made of cheap polyester and feathers, resembling a cheap hooker. And you know that if tonight goes well, you will probably need to wait one week to meet your lover until all those pimples disappear.
So Valentines can really bite me, because I don’t believe that the “official” way to say “I love you” is through dead vegetation and fat-saturated sugar products…