This is a little something I wrote for Valentine’s Day 2007. I will comment on this later and how my outlook has changed drastically since then. In fact, some of this is actually embarrassing to read again. But, anyway, here it is…
So I told you why I hate Christmas (see “Why I Hate Christmas”). Now I am going to tell you why I hate Valentine’s Day. It’s probably one of the most ridiculous holidays ever. Let’s think about this holiday logically for one second. Some asshole decided that there should be one day in the entire year when you celebrate love (as opposed to the rest of the days when you don’t give a flying fuck about your significant other). Now, I don’t know about you, but if I’m celebrating my love for my girl for one whole day of the year, it’s not a very good relationship (see “All of Mike Rosen’s relationships”). In my opinion, shouldn’t you celebrate your love for your girlfriend or boyfriend every day? I don’t know. Just a feeling I have.
Let us start our dissection of Valentine’s Day starting in the second grade. Everything prior to February 14th is grand. You finger paint, learn about Kenya and Japan, and eat cupcakes (trust me, I wasn’t fat until second grade—damn you Mrs. Amster, you sweet amazing teacher, for fattening me up). Then the terrible day comes when you have to go to Walgreen’s and buy those queer Valentine cards that say, “Bee my Valentine” with a fuckin bee on it (clever, right?). Then you question, “Do I give a card to everyone? What if I give a card to the hot girl and she doesn’t give me one back? Should I even give cards out?” You start to question your dignity, your self-respect. You start questioning whether hot girls give cards to the fat (and may I add brilliant) kid. Now what kind of social situation is this for a second grader? My god. I can’t even handle it now.
Fast forward to the present day. Valentine’s Day is a pressure packed situation still. You have two options: one, you are all alone and Valentine’s Day sucks. Two, you take out your loved one for a stressful night. I shall start with the lonely situation. If you are a guy, this is tough. You get home from a long day at work or school and realize that you are all alone on this fateful night. But you think to yourself, “Why should this night be different then any other night? (Passover-ish for all the Jews reading)” (See, “Mike’s Life”) So, to prove to yourself that you are truly a man, you pop open a beer and watch an old Knicks-Bulls game on ESPN Classic. Truly a testosterone filled evening, however, it is a tad lame. Now if you are the girl, you just don’t settle for a night at home. You go out with three of your best girl friends to dinner. And a fancy one at that. You sit with your girls and think you are “above” Valentine’s Day. You drink your red wine, gossip all night, and think you are soooo Sex and the City (fuck you Sarah Jessica Parker, you fuckin god forsaken whore. You have made mankind, and by mankind I mean us men, worse). But what you don’t realize it that every couple is looking at you and thinking how lame you are. This showing right here is the most obvious way to say, “I am single and I am not happy about it.” Enjoy your wine.
The other option is that you have a significant other. And although it might not be as estrogen filled as the girlie night or sad as beer and ESPN Classic man, it is much more stressful. From the perspective of the guy, this is one day that you do not look forward to. Your girl tells you she doesn’t want anything big (or maybe she says she doesn’t want to go out at all). But that bitch is a god damn liar. So, you’re ahead of the game here—you know she wants to go out. So you get reservations at the local semi-fancy restaurant. You buy the five dollar chocolate in the heart shaped box at CVS and a tacky card. You bring her to the restaurant and give her the shit you spent perfectly good money on that you could’ve spent on more manly things (i.e. beer, chicken, strippers). And you know what the ungrateful bitch says, “That’s so sweet of you.” In other words, it was a nice gesture but I wanted a more expensive gift. And in other words, you are not getting any tonight. And if you do, it will not be that good. From the girl’s perspective, you do jack shit. You expect an amazingly romantic night—something that you would see from the movie “The Notebook” (including making out in the rain and a dude with a beard to build you a house). Sorry woman, your man doesn’t have a beard and there is two-day-old snow on the ground and no chance of rain. But you still expect this bullshit. You expect your man to forget that he has balls for the night and be a romantic bitch. And then when it doesn’t happen, you tell your girlfriends, in another self proclaimed Sex and the City moment (see “What Poisons Women’s Minds”), how disappointed you were. Reality check—this doesn’t happen to anyone, and you are no one special.
So now you question what Mike is doing for Valentine’s Day. Well, first off he is single and apparently girls don’t really like him (fuckin women don’t see the greatness right in front of their faces). But I will be working all day in the government, trying to change the world, while you assholes waste your time (and speaking of wasting time, I can’t believe you are still reading this). I will then come home, cook myself some dinner and sleep. Sure, it may be a tad depressing, but hey, I’m not spending my time pretending I’m a whore from Sex and the City or spending money on a woman who thinks she is a whore from Sex and the City.
And yes, I got a card from the hot girl.