I blame it all on Pope Gelasius I. He’s the one that started this whacky holiday. I jest, of course. Valentine’s Day is a grand holiday for those that have someone and a torrid day of shite for the rest of us that or either too high and mighty or too damaged to be of any use to anyone. If you really think about it, the day is crappy for most folks. People that are married or in a relationship go out and spend money they don’t have in order to impress upon their loved one that they love them.
The whole commercialisation of Valentine’s Day makes me sick, but I’ll admit that it is nice to come home to a cooked meal. That’s all I need to feel special. I believe that I can write a poem far superior to anything poor blokes can buy in a store. Mind you, not all guys can do that. But, they can, if they try, come up with something better than what they can buy. And ladies, if you can’t cook, put on a little something special. We men are easily impressed by little to no clothing!
May I prevail upon the lot of you to dig deep into your hearts this year and do something special for your significant other? The northern hemisphere world is still in an economic crisis, so do yourself and me a feckin’ favour, don’t spend money you don’t have. Pretentiousness and narcissistic attitudes are the reason we are in this mess. Stop it now. The best thing we can all do is learn from our past mistakes and do our best not to make them again.
To me, at least, the most important aspect of St. Valentine’s Day is to tell that special person in our lives how we truly feel about them without holding back. It is better to be honest than not. But, if you think she’s fat, don’t say it! Especially on Valentine’s Day!
There are men and women out there that have given up on ever finding anyone. My advice is to never give up and never surrender. I’ve been kicked, beat with a pocket book (primary days. I deserved it.), slapped, kneed, whacked across the nose (Welsh chick. I was legless, but I’m quite sure I didn’t say anything to deserve a whack across the bridge of my nose.), and used. I’m as crazy about women now as I was in my youth.
Sometimes we have to make that nervous first step, but if we don’t, we’ll never know what would’ve happened. My grandfather used to say that the things we don’t do are as important as the things we do. It took me years to figure that one out.
To all the men out there:
Stop grunting and pointing. You wife/girlfriend is not your momma or your maid. Stop treating her like a piece of property and be glad someone loves your sorry arse. Listen to their overly narrative stories even though you find them horrendously boring.
To all the women out there:
Stop bitchin’ and moaning. Sure, your man is a piece of shite. Well, you picked him. Deal with what you’ve got and try to make the best of it. If you care for your man, get involved in the things that he likes to do and he might just do the same.
I realise this is an oddly formed post, but in my own defence, I am hopped up on cold medicine. I’m going to bugger off to count some drunken sheep. I hope you all have a very Happy Valentine’s Day.
I leave you with something that keeps me busy on days like these. Mind you, this is not my bug, but I do love the sound. 
