Valentines Day for Hopeless Non-Romantics


 Wow! Janet did an excellent job spending our team’s entire social budget on this lovey-dovey ambiance. You know what they always say: leave romance out of the workplace -EXCEPT ON FEBRUARY 14TH! It’s the one day of the year that Ron and Linda’s daily affair in the men’s handicap stall is “passionate” and not “unfair to their spouses and young children.” Speaking of children, there's a box of chalky heart shaped candies at my desk. I’ll place them in my drawer and save them for… never. Delicious! Would so rather have company resources spent on these than something dumb like SURPRISE PIZZA. Oh I’m not annoyed!  This is just my Valentines Day resting face – the one I make when I can’t see what I’m purchasing from the snack machine.  Is that a bag of delicious potato chips or a popped/baked/dehydrated vegetable-crisp situation?  I can’t see through the anatomically incorrect hearts taped to the glass.  Can you imagine if our critical blood-pumping mechanisms looked like these upside-down triangles with boobs?  WE’D DIE.  But today isn’t a day to think about death. Today is a holiday for LOVE.  Ah yes, love, that ocean of warmth, that flutter of a hummingbird’s wings, that feeling arbitrarily associated with the heart even though it clearly is a product of brain chemistry.  Why can’t we just decorate with brains or symbols of oxytocin?  Oh, you think THAT would be weird.  Of course.  My mistake.


 Look, I’m playing along and wearing red. Am I pure sex in this over-sized scratchy wool sweater?  It lives in the back of my closet and emerges once a year for this precise occasion. Does it elicit an amorous response? Good. It is my intention to seduce my mate.  No, not you, sticky-hand Dave.  No, not you, Leo from sales who calls his cubicle “ANNIHILATION STATION.”  No, not you, alarmingly attracting high-school intern.  By “mate” I mean my live-in boyfriend of three years.  I care about him deeply.  He excels at Microsoft Excel and can make one good soup. 


 Hello sweet partner!  I’m home from work.  Ooooo flowers?  What sweetness of you to transfer these plants from outdoors to indoors where flowers do not generally belong.  I appreciate these dying bits of vegetation.  Let me just put them into a container.  A vase?  No, I use that to hold my fun pencils.  A cup?  No, I use that to drink liquids when I’m thirsty. Ah, an empty shampoo bottle. Exquisite!  I shall keep these flowers upon the table until I find their extent of decay to be aesthetically displeasing.  In no way will they remind me of my own mortality.


 My darling, I did not forget you!  Here is a card that I bought from CVS with a silly romantic message on it written by a stranger.  I signed it to show that although I did not write the card I do endorse its sentiment. Now you must keep this card somewhere.  In a desk or in a shoebox, perhaps in that pile of papers you’ve cultivated behind the keyboard we don’t play. Whatever you do, I suppose you can’t throw it away. It’s now a symbol of our relationship and to discard it somehow disrespects our love.  Of course, one day we will move or de-clutter and you will throw it away but feel slightly shitty about it.  You’re welcome for this future piece of guilt.


 In honor of our burning love we light these tiny fires! Tiny fires on the floor, tiny fires on the wooden table, tiny fires on the desk right by the curtains.  How brave of us to create so many indoor flames. For the evening we forsake the miracle of electricity to squint and stumble.  Now, am I eating the spaghetti you made or strands from my grandmother’s burial shroud?  It was sitting right here…


 The time has arrived for the ultimate Valentine's Day act.  Could anything be sexier than having sex on a day specifically designated for having sex?  I find joy in this; the same joy I find in arriving to work on time or paying a parking meter. So let’s have some steamy sex in honor of St. Valentine who was murdered in 270 A.D.  Let’s be adventurous and kinky!  The shower? But then one person’s dry while the other person drowns in the pelting of our aggressive water pressure.  The kitchen?  But that’s where we cook meat and use knives. The floor?  You’re allergic to cat hair and I’m allergic to having sex on hard surfaces.  The bed?  Meh…


 Let’s have sex tomorrow and eat these Valentine’s chocolates instead.  Chocolate is always good. How can you find fault in chocolate?... Although this was overpriced and the packaging is ridiculous. FRILLS?  FRILLS ON FOOD?  Ok I’ll stop but only because I love you.