So here it is Merry Chris…no hang on. That’s the other overly commercialised day of loneliness if you’re not with a partner who needs an excuse to tell you they love you. I realised I glossed over my weekend in order to get to writing about today, so I could go through the utter crap of it all with twisted, cynical and bitter prose, punctuated with a deep sense of loathing for anyone who is snuggled up in bed with a loved one after a marathon sex session because roses were brought into the household. You know who you are.
As I mentioned previously, my teenage years were spent with a distinct lack of interest from females, so naturally when this day came around it served to emphasise and highlight just how single I was. I hated when it fell on a school day, which obviously happened quite a lot, because it seemed like everyone knew something I didn’t. Of course with each year there came the promise of maybe getting a card, a false dawn that resulted in an overwhelming sense of self pity come the stroke of midnight that evening. You can shove your chocolates up your arse.
Until one day, around fourteen I think, I recall a red envelope appearing on the mat. To my utter surprise, it was addressed to me. My first ever valentines. I was almost shaking with excitement and glee as I tore at the envelope, desperate to find out who t was from. Perhaps it was a girl I was interested in? Maybe it was from a secret admirer? It might well not have been signed at all. It turned out to be from my mum.
I didn’t know if I loved or loathed her at that point. Of course in hindsight, it was only ever love. And to dad too of course, who I’m sure would have had a hand in it somewhere. My only two truest valentines.
Happy Valentines Day. Just remember you don’t need one date to express how you feel about that special someone. My ex used to tell me she hated me all the time.
Fuck you cupid
So here it is Merry Chris…no hang on. That’s the other overly commercialised day of loneliness if you’re not with a partner who needs an excuse to tell you they love you. I realised I glossed over my weekend in order to get to writing about today, so I could go through the utter crap of it all with twisted, cynical and bitter prose, punctuated with a deep sense of loathing for anyone who is snuggled up in bed with a loved one after a marathon sex session because roses were brought into the household. You know who you are.
As I mentioned previously, my teenage years were spent with a distinct lack of interest from females, so naturally when this day came around it served to emphasise and highlight just how single I was. I hated when it fell on a school day, which obviously happened quite a lot, because it seemed like everyone knew something I didn’t. Of course with each year there came the promise of maybe getting a card, a false dawn that resulted in an overwhelming sense of self pity come the stroke of midnight that evening. You can shove your chocolates up your arse.
Until one day, around fourteen I think, I recall a red envelope appearing on the mat. To my utter surprise, it was addressed to me. My first ever valentines. I was almost shaking with excitement and glee as I tore at the envelope, desperate to find out who t was from. Perhaps it was a girl I was interested in? Maybe it was from a secret admirer? It might well not have been signed at all. It turned out to be from my mum.
I didn’t know if I loved or loathed her at that point. Of course in hindsight, it was only ever love. And to dad too of course, who I’m sure would have had a hand in it somewhere. My only two truest valentines.
Happy Valentines Day. Just remember you don’t need one date to express how you feel about that special someone. My ex used to tell me she hated me all the time.