Conversation Hearts

Another single Valentine's Day that didn't devastate me. I went out for a few drinks after work with a few gals to protest the cursed day . . . actually it was just an excuse to drink beer and because we were all dressed up, it seemed appropriate. After about 64 ounces too many, I went home to retire and to return phone calls from Aftershock and Eddie sweetly wishing me a good holiday. I fought with Eddie about whether or not he was coming over and I eventually won. I went to bed alone and loved it. After all, what is this holiday really about? Finding the one day out of the year to go overboard on pink and red sweets and nasty tasting chocolates, including chocolate covered cherries which I am convinced was one person's way of insulting the tastebuds of the civilized world. Oh right, it's really about finding something cheap and sparkly to put on the wrist of the gal that you love, and cuddling up to her like you care so that tomorrow you can go back to being the jerk you've been all week. Right? Ha. I know it means more to people than that, I just wish they'd define it for themselves instead of falling victim to the commercialized version of what's expected of them. Do something original out there guys, something that matters to her, not to the larger female gender.