photo by quinn.anyaSweetest Day is bullshit. I just wanna say that right off the bat. A Consumerist conspiracy perpetrated by the Master Florists Association, Hallmark, & Hershey... Godiva and the National Fancy Helium Balloon Association (Filled & Unfilled brethren welcome) were there too. At the table. The diabolical table of "we don't think people spend enough money on our crap... how can we guilt the average American into blowing more cash on proving their love?" table. Of doom.
Apparently this bogus day where frightened-looking men toddle into florist shops, grocery store flower refrigerators, candy aisles, jewelry stores featuring short-term credit applications, and cheesy balloon stands in malls was Saturday. I didn't notice.
I was supposed to get together with a friend of mine that night. I bailed. Now I'm glad I did.
Ladies, have you ever noticed that so often you can be friends with a guy for ages and it seems like he's just such a dear friend and everything is happy and wonderful... right up until your boyfriend throws you over to pursue a law degree and skips town to Europe. (Which is the best place to skip town to, IMNSHO.) Then suddenly you're a walking, talking, cooking, physically appealing side of beef seemingly destined to be claimed for their own. (Do you have flag?) Because of course as Proposer #2, whilst declining my extended company so eloquently implied, I won't be happy until I've found that "special someone." At which time apparently I will begin residing in LaLaLand. Which is right next to Ubangy. And Neverneverland. They share a common border.
It's funny how a day like Sweetest Day or Valentine's Day can take such a hold of fear over men. (And gay couples? Is Phil mad at Steve if Steve forgets to bring home the rainbow carnations Phil lovingly admired in the arts district florist window? Is Tanya mad at Jan if there's no trail of rose petals leading her up to the bedroom?) Are other women/gay men really angry if their "significant other" forgets? I'd be waaaay more pissed if say, one of my entanglements forgot my birthday. (But you all know how I feel about my birthday. Best. Day. EVAR.) It's such crap. If you love someone you show them every day, as much as possible in a million small ways. Flowers and candy and sparkly things -while nice - are really quite irrelevant to the whole "love" thing. But maybe that's just me.
NOW. That being said, some horrible pink bear thing was just delivered to a co-worker of mine from some man in honor of Sweetest Day. And I can't help thinking... I can't remember the last time I got flowers. Truly, I can't. Candy's origins are parental. As for sparkly things... well I'm a farging crow and I scare up that sort of thing for myself. (Heh.) But flowers... odd symbol though they are... here, have something that'll be dead in two days. Fewer if you forget to add their embalming packet. But look! Fleetingly pretty! Just like you! Anyway, I'm kind of jealous. Which is totally stupid. I'm sure it'll be just as fleeting as that silly bear's existence.
Apparently this bogus day where frightened-looking men toddle into florist shops, grocery store flower refrigerators, candy aisles, jewelry stores featuring short-term credit applications, and cheesy balloon stands in malls was Saturday. I didn't notice.
I was supposed to get together with a friend of mine that night. I bailed. Now I'm glad I did.
Ladies, have you ever noticed that so often you can be friends with a guy for ages and it seems like he's just such a dear friend and everything is happy and wonderful... right up until your boyfriend throws you over to pursue a law degree and skips town to Europe. (Which is the best place to skip town to, IMNSHO.) Then suddenly you're a walking, talking, cooking, physically appealing side of beef seemingly destined to be claimed for their own. (Do you have flag?) Because of course as Proposer #2, whilst declining my extended company so eloquently implied, I won't be happy until I've found that "special someone." At which time apparently I will begin residing in LaLaLand. Which is right next to Ubangy. And Neverneverland. They share a common border.
It's funny how a day like Sweetest Day or Valentine's Day can take such a hold of fear over men. (And gay couples? Is Phil mad at Steve if Steve forgets to bring home the rainbow carnations Phil lovingly admired in the arts district florist window? Is Tanya mad at Jan if there's no trail of rose petals leading her up to the bedroom?) Are other women/gay men really angry if their "significant other" forgets? I'd be waaaay more pissed if say, one of my entanglements forgot my birthday. (But you all know how I feel about my birthday. Best. Day. EVAR.) It's such crap. If you love someone you show them every day, as much as possible in a million small ways. Flowers and candy and sparkly things -while nice - are really quite irrelevant to the whole "love" thing. But maybe that's just me.
NOW. That being said, some horrible pink bear thing was just delivered to a co-worker of mine from some man in honor of Sweetest Day. And I can't help thinking... I can't remember the last time I got flowers. Truly, I can't. Candy's origins are parental. As for sparkly things... well I'm a farging crow and I scare up that sort of thing for myself. (Heh.) But flowers... odd symbol though they are... here, have something that'll be dead in two days. Fewer if you forget to add their embalming packet. But look! Fleetingly pretty! Just like you! Anyway, I'm kind of jealous. Which is totally stupid. I'm sure it'll be just as fleeting as that silly bear's existence.
4 comments:
My hubby and I have been together for 21 years and we have religiously ignored Sweetest Day from the start. Hallmark Holiday. Ugh.
Fly your non-conformist flag, sister! Do not succumb! "he" wil thank you for it some day.
WTF is Sweetest Day?
Personally, I enjoy an extra excuse to spoil my sweetie rotten. (When I have one, which is only on alternate leap years.) Not that I need one, and I generally prefer to surprise her anyway.
But you're right, it shouldn't take some bogus holiday to make you remember to show your significant other that they're, well, significant.
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