Why I hate Valentine's Day.
And like any half-decent maverick, I'm publishing this after Valentine's Day.
Writing has been a slog lately (is that why, in my unconscious mind, I have called my substack, SBlog?). Sometimes that happens, innit. Especially when you write for your business and pleasure.
That reminds me, do you remember LPs that were under the UK label, Music for Pleasure? My dad had a MFP Herman’s Hermits cassette which I played way more than someone of my generation ought to.
Are there any more words left to write, I wonder? If this is anything to go by, the answer is no. But still, I continue, in the hope inspiration will come to me like Jason Momoa on horseback. Ok, I’m not remotely attracted to Jason Momoa but for a lot of women (and men) he’s like the gold standard of sexiness. So I guess, as it’s the week for romance, I’ve given him a mention. But now I feel bad—think how devasted he’s going to be when he realises he has zero chance with me. A crushing blow for the Aquaman, to be sure.
Anyway, Valentine’s Day sucks arse, doesn’t it?
We know an article about that…
Like almost every holy day, businesses ruin it. It’s just another opportunity to cash in. And although, as a business owner, I don’t object to making money, I just don’t understand why grown adults partake in the bullshit that is Valentine’s Day.
I was driving home on the 14th and I saw a bloke carrying a bunch of pink roses. He looked miserable. These weren’t ‘I love you so much, baby, here’s a token of my love’ roses, these were ‘I’m obliged to purchase flowers for my partner or she/he/they will hit the fucking roof’ roses. Of course, I’m making up stories about this fella. His resting facial expression might just be one of utter hopelessness. Maybe he went, unprompted to buy flowers (flowers that would’ve been half the price at any other time of the year) because he’s a soppy melt of a bastard.
Did you know you can buy Valentine’s cards for all the members of your family? Now unless you’re from a remote Gloucestershire village, why would you need to send a romantic card to your mum? Jill (from my 2012 Zante holiday) posted on Facebook that she’d sent Valentine’s cards—and cupcakes to ALL her nieces and nephews. I mean, what the fuck is going on? And that brings me to the other social media posts I’ve seen—couples buying each other red-coloured tat covered in glitter. However, I was moved when Mick “spoilt” Chez and booked a table at his local, for a substandard overpriced steak dinner—where they probably sat in silence except when Mick complained about the quality of the onion rings.
It’s funny really. All this performative love-showing. I’m not completely without feelings (or nuance). It is possible to love your wife—and honest to god LIKE your wife, and enjoy her company—and want to treat her on Valentine's Day. But I reckon those sorts of folks are displaying their appreciation throughout the year—with or without an audience. So, I’m totally down for genuine romance. The kind that makes you giddy as a kipper but that’s chemistry, not chocolate hearts and stuffed teddy bears.
Just the random ass stuff in 😂
Sorry duck, got distracted by the ass-eating thread again :-O