Etta James: My Funny Valentine
Today is 14th February. Nothing else, nothing special, just the day after the 13th and the day before the 15th and also my boss Deb’s birthday and if I mention her in this blog she might give me a payrise. (Seriously, happy birthday Deb. I’m nice.)
But for some reason, despite it being just 14th February, everyone seems determined to make it some day of FUN and LOVE and BEING NICE TO PEOPLE WE CARE ABOUT and EATING STUFF IN THE SHAPE OF HEARTS. Well, fuck them. Fuck them in the eye.
Okay, I should stop there, because if anyone mistakes this as me being serious then I will have to fuck MYSELF in the eye, because I actually really don’t mind Valentine’s Day at all. I quite like it. And I do not want to fuck myself in the eye.
Last year, I blogged about it from the point of view of a singleton sick of being presumed to be bitter about the evil V-Day, but this year I actually haz a fella (I know, I don’t believe it either) and – seeing as this year I’m neither single nor dating a total dickhead*** – I’m celebrating Valentine’s properly for the first time ever.
Yes, I bought a silly card. And I bought him a present (nothing soppy, just something I think he’d actually like). And he’s taking me away to a mystery surprise location for the night (the only clue I have is they serve oysters), because, according to him, I’m awesome. YAY ME. There, I said it.
Normally, when people get bought presents for whatever reason, we as humans are quite happy for them. We exclaim things like ‘How NICE!’ and stuff. But, when someone buys you something on Valentine’s Day, suddenly there are at least three things that are fundamentally wrong with you as a person:
1. “Valentine’s is so commercial!”
Catch up, shit-for-brains, so is every holiday.
At Christmas @fart retweeted all the spoilt brats who didn’t get the right colour iPhone, and it made us all giggly at people who thought shiny presents were important, and now @shoutsatcows are doing the same with people who didn’t get enough presents on Valentine’s. We get it, they’re tools. Doesn’t mean that everyone that likes Valentine’s Day or Christmas subscribes to that particular brand of fucktardery.
Yes, it can be tiresome: suddenly, there’s a card for everything. These days, you can’t successfully digest a meal without someone you know scuttling off to moonpig.com and finding a hideous photo to mark the occasion to show they care. Doesn’t mean I have to start doing the same, but I’m not about to piss on anyone’s cornflakes if that’s what they want to do.
People that want you to buy stuff are going invent excuses to make you buy stuff. Duh. You don’t have to buy it – you don’t have to buy anything – but you also don’t have to do a sneery face at people that do decide to spend money on someone for no other reason than a stupid myth about a saint.
2. “It’s so smug.”
Yeah, I know. How dare people be happy and, you know, actually show it? Twats.
NO ONE ELSE is allowed to be happy until YOU ARE EQUALLY HAPPY. Them’s the rules. If you’re a douche.
3. “Why not do it every day?”
Exactly. Look at them: all these people wandering around COMPLETELY ignoring the person they care about until this ONE DAY of the year. If you celebrate Valentine’s Day, it actually, definitely 100% means that throughout the other 364-5 days, neither of you can bear to look at each other’s disappointing faces, let alone be seen together in public, and they can buy their own fucking birthday present. Yeah, that’s definitely how it works. You just don’t care, do you? People that celebrate Valentine’s Day are monsters.
So we’re doing it wrong: according to lots of super-happy, never-grumpy and certainly not cynical people, in fact every day should be like Valentine’s Day, apparently. I mean, why do we even have days about stuff anyway? Christmas? Sod it, I’m having a twinkly tree in my living room all year round. Birthdays? Pah. I want candles on my food every day. All this doing stuff on a certain day is such a menace to the rest of the days in the year, and must be stopped.
…Okay, I think I’ve ranted long enough. Basically: stop hating on a day just because some people want to buy each other stuff, you miserable bunch of sods. If you don’t want to mark Valentine’s Day: jolly well done. I do. And just because you insist you would rather be loving for the rest of the year instead, it doesn’t mean you get to be a total c*** on the day itself to balance it out.
And – no shit Sherlock – I’ll also go out and about with my fella pretty frequently – Valentine’s or no Valentine’s. It’s what people do. I’ll buy him stuff sometimes, if I want to, or sometimes if I have to because it’s his stupid birthday. I’ll even tell him he’s not a smelly bumface occasionally (gotta keep him sweet, after all). And he’ll be nice back (hopefully), and will probably even keep giving me a lift home every time my friends and I drink so much we can’t remember where we live (so see you at the usual time on Friday, babes.)
But tonight, we’ve got a daft, silly, meaningless excuse to have all the usual fun we have, but with a tiny bit extra pizazz than normal. And oysters. And so we will.
***And no, they weren’t just dickheads because they didn’t celebrate Valentine’s, before you get all agitated about it in the comments. Shush.