Let me get this out of my chest: Valentine’s Day is a big crock of shit.

Sure, it feels good dedicating one whole day to love. And of course, if you’ve got dates and all, it wouldn’t hurt to blow a fortune on flowers, chocolates, various stuffed animals, and motel fees just to make your beloved feel good. Maybe I’m just a bit bitter because I did spend a fortune on that stuff (except for the motel fees; I’m a God-fearing citizen who believes in abstinence) and for all intents and purposes I’ll be sucking dicks along EDSA for 20 pesos a pop just to get through the rest of the month.

Women love it when men go out of their way to spend loads of money for something impractical and will rot for a few days. And us men would want nothing more than the adulation and happiness (read: blowjobs) that comes out of that herculean effort. I strongly believe I could save my time by going up to my girlfriend and dumping the entire contents of my wallet in a paper shredder while screaming “I LOVE YOU! SEE?! I’M DESTROYING MY LIFE SAVINGS FOR YOU! ALSO PAY FOR DINNER BECAUSE I’M OFFICIALLY BROKE”.

So as I was going through the motions of the traditional Valentine’s preparations (flowers, chocolate, lube, whips, the works) it hit me: why are we going through this? Why are people torturing themselves with a totally impractical exercise that serves no other purpose but to make money off the ones in relationships and make the single ones feel miserable and lonely?

I don’t understand the rampant over-commercialization of Valentine’s. I curse the high heavens for creating this holiday designed to exploit the need of women to feel wanted. Which in turn activates their PMS claws and in turn forces their poor, poor boyfriends to spend extravagant amounts of money. And if you’re single and you see all these people carrying flowers, stuffed animals, heart-shaped pillows and latex dildos around, you’d feel a bit left out.

Here’s a secret: instead of setting aside one day for that warm fuzzy feeling of love, wherein you lose your life savings in a day of bliss followed by two weeks of bankrupt misery, why not spread out the effort you exert for the other 364 days of the year? Make an effort everyday. It’ll make you a lot happier. And it’s more practical.

But if you’re single, you can just lock yourself in a room, hang a sock at your doorknob, break out a tube of lube, put in a DVD of Maria Ozawa, and cry as you fap away your miserable experience. Or you can just drink with your best buddies and wake up realizing that you were so smashed that you ended up doing an all night all male orgy or something.

What do you think of Valentine’s Day?

In case the mushiness in this blog entry has turned you off, the following profanity has been included to cleanse your brain of the mush: SUCK A CAMEL’S HAIRY SALTY FUCKING BALLS.

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