No Secrets

What the what?  All PostSecret has today is a Valentine’s Day video.  Sonofa…  Okay, Frank, I understand that you’re busy with all the events and everything, but PostSecret is part of my Sunday.  I wake up, feed the cats, get coffee, and read secrets.  It’s what I do.  And now there’s just this video for Valentine’s Day?

Valentine’s Day.  Come on.  And not just because I have no PostSecrets to read this morning.

I should point out that Valentine’s Day is actually mine and Graham’s anniversary, and that tomorrow we’ll have been together for four years.  This is the longest relationship either of us has ever had.  Not that we’ll be able to celebrate it ourselves.

Typically if you’re in a relationship, Valentine’s Day is when you get presents and someone takes you to dinner.  If you’re single, you go to a bar and get shitfaced enough to sleep with someone who still wears Cool Water cologne.  If you’re me, you come home from work, do some situps, and watch Intervention.  Just like he is for weekends, holidays, and other special occasions, Graham will be at work on Valentine’s Day.  That gorgeous chocolate cake you’re eating to celebrate the fact that you found someone who isn’t repulsed by the sight of you?  He made it.  It’s a good thing I enjoy sitting around in my fat pants by myself.  If I didn’t, I’d never be able to date a chef.

I’ve also never been a fan of Valentine’s Day.  When I was single, Valentine’s Day was an excuse to book up all the restaurants if I wanted to go out.  It was also the thing all my married co-workers would use to demonstrate how bitter and unhappy I was (allegedly).  “You’d like Valentine’s Day if you were part of a couple, don’t lie!”  Actually, no, shitheads, I wouldn’t, because it’s just another day where I have to buy a present and I don’t need that kind of stress on top of birthdays and Christmas.  Also, fuck you and your awful marriage.  You set aside one day of the year to assure your spouse you don’t hate them, and once those grocery store flowers die, you’re back to rolling your eyes at everything they say and telling insulting stories about them at work.

(FACT: When someone’s marriage sucks, all the stories they tell about their spouse are insulting, whether they intend for them to be that way or not.  I didn’t even realize that all the stories I once told about my ex-husband made him look like a bigoted dumbshit until a co-worker said “…and why are you married, again?”  I didn’t have an answer.)

To me, Valentine’s Day is to couples what Christmas is to religious people.  You can’t pick just one day to be decent.  If you’re going to live your life like Christ, knock yourself out every day of the year.  If you’re going to be in love with someone, don’t wait until this one day to be nice and treat them like you’re not ashamed to be seen with them in public.

I would say to buy flowers for them whenever, but Graham did that the other day and I looked at them like, “I don’t understand why these are in my house.”  They’re pretty and I appreciate them, it’s just that I don’t get flowers very often (something about me makes people think I’d shove them down the garbage disposal, I guess) and would usually rather have burritos with that money.

Or, like the 90-pound girl at work said, “If you’re going to spend a ton of money to buy me flowers, those motherfuckers better be part of an edible arrangement.”

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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3 Responses to No Secrets

  1. secretlystephie says:

    I’m pretty proud that I spent my (presumably) last single Valentine’s Day as an extra in a Breeders video.

  2. Becky says:

    Postsecret had secrets up this week….they were just all Valentine’s Day related. Check out the website again.

  3. Pingback: VD | Ephemera Etc.

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