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Sometimes Love Just Stinks.

Posted by TShirt Laundry on 2/12/2013 to Misc.
Let’s face it. Sometimes love just stinks.

Poets have long-scorned past lovers and musicians have milked millions out of a bad breakup. It seems like everyone’s had their fair share of heartache. So what gives with all the red and pink sparkly hearts being shoved in your face since mid-January?

No, I don’t want my chocolate heart-shaped, and no, I don’t want to purchase a half pound bag of hot pink glitter. I just want to eat my tub of ice cream on the couch, watch bad reality TV and patiently (read as impatiently) wait for dawn to break on February 15.

So Valentine’s Day – how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways…

1. There is absolutely no reason to make teddy bears the size of Cadillacs. Seriously, you’d have nightmares worrying about that thing suffocating you while your eyes were closed.

2. The whole gift-giving guessing game is just plain stupid. Why should we have to wonder if someone is going to shell out the money for a Valentine’s Day gift for us, and if they do, what that all means? Let’s just start saying what we mean…all year long.

3. Also known as Singles Awareness Day, Valentine’s Day has a wrap for making single people feel like crap. Well, here’s some news. It makes people in relationships feel like crap too. Attached or not, most of our love lives will never live up to The Notebook.

4. A farm-to-table dinner at the hottest restaurant in town sounds oh-so-romantic, right? Wrong, just wrong. If you are even lucky enough to score a reservation (I’d suggest calling in August), your table will be so close to the one next to you, you might as well be on a double date. See that? Romance right out the window.

5. Chocolate. I know you’re wondering how on earth chocolate could ever be a negative thing. Try on your favorite pair of skinny jeans a few days post-Valentine’s Day cocoa binge, and you’ll understand its evil wrath entirely.

Unfortunately, all this loathing has got me wanting a glass of champagne, a box of chocolates and a chick-flick marathon. You win again, Cupid, you win again.