Eurgh. That time of year again.
The card shops fill with a staggering amount of scarlet coloured tat and symbols of Love nestling somewhat strangely between Easter merchandise (When the hell is Easter exactly? I never know), quietly waiting for the next deluded fool to sift sheep-like through the rows of extortionately priced cards. Stopping occasionally to chuckle quietly to themselves, show a mate how 'funny' the card is or look dead guilty when they realise that the card is actually professing 'love' in a faux Connery accent at tannoy volume.
<*dv_2*> Nope. Its no good. The bitter wretch that I am - Dumped as regularly as George Best's vital organs - will not allow me to join in the fantasy, or conspiracy, that we thinly veil as a valid day to celebrate.
I admit it. I have been weak in the past. Purchased ludicrous padded cards, wrote endearing poetry on leaves (Yes, I really did cause pain to nature's finest creation, the tree, in order to convey emotion), spent silly money on flowers and wasted my days in front of the ubiquitous soul destroying 'career computer', wistfully having crushes on anything with a pulse and a warm ankle.
Now, I had an interesting discussion with my best friend, who although is in a stable relationship of two years, appears to be the greatest walking misogynistic contradiction this fine planet has to offer. This, to me, conveys what the whole charade that is 'love' actually means. The chat went thus:-
<*dv_1*> "So what you going to get Dawn for Valentine's day? (not really interested but hey! People like it when you are interested in them)
"A fucking slap"
"Eh?"
"She does my head right in. Won't get off her fat arse and get a proper job."
"what do you mean?"
"Well, I'm struggling now to get all the bills paid because her business isn't doing so well. Blah blah blah"
This went on for approximately one hour. In this time all manner of emotional blackmail tactics were discussed and threats of separation etc etc. You'll be relieved to know that this will never happen as Mr. Bob (child substitute) the bull terrier is totally reliant on his 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' therefore we can't possibly have a 'Kramer Vs. Kramer' scenario on our hands.
Cue Dawn's keys rattling in the door. My friend falls silent. His face still claret from the good old 'world to rights' whine he just had. I expect after such a volcanic display of hate and dissatisfaction that they would begin rowing once she had crossed the threshold but not so my friends! Cue learned behavioral script:-
<*dv_0*> "Hi! How was your day? Ooh, you look tired! Sit down and put your feet up."
"Do you want a cup of tea, sweetie? I've taken 'Bobsy' out. He's missed his Mommy today. I've got you something nice for Valentine's...."
So there you go. At that moment, I felt akin to Kevin Spacey in Seven. I wanted to throw up on a random stranger because what I had witnessed made me despair. Despite all the ill will, hate, unhappiness, he immediately conformed to relationship behavior when the Pavlovian whistle was blown.
And this is the problem. This weekend, Ann Summers & Thorntons will be rife with men and women doing their best to make their flagging relationships lift by buying bottles of Astroglide personal lube and Belgian continentals but knowing deep down its just time passing till the inevitable elbow.
So what will I be doing on this accursed day, I hear you cry? I'll be in Glasgow - burial place of St. Valentine - hoping to get off with a lovely Scottish lass. I admit it. I'm the worst kind of contradicting bitch there is! But if there's a chance of a warm ankle... Well.. Throw me a bone here.....
Submitted by Clyde Martin-Leon
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