Polmer: Hallmark Hell

So I was reading the latest sex column in The Hatchet the other day, and as I was finishing up (literally), I remembered that it’s February and Valentine’s Day is coming up. Oh, “Eve”- if only I had a girlfriend like you…

Now, for me, Valentine’s Day has never really been all that special. I mean, what is it anyway? Nothing more than a mere capitalistic, pseudo-holiday hyped up by Hallmark to sell lots of red, heart-shaped cards and boxes of chocolate. Every year, I walk into a CVS in February and am bombarded with the same red crap; teddy bears, obnoxious cards, chocolate, roses, chocolate roses – you name it.

Maybe it’s just me being bitter because I’m not in a relationship, but I remember when Valentine’s Day used to be fun! Think back to when you were in elementary school and every Valentine’s Day you would get to trade Looney Toons-themed love cards with your classmates and eat Sweethearts until you felt ill.

But now, at this age, the love holiday means something completely different for us guys. If you’re in a relationship, it means you’re obligated to spend lots of money on a bouquet of roses and an expensive dinner in Georgetown. If you’re just hooking-up with somebody, then it means a not-so-expensive trip to CVS for something heart-shaped and a box of condoms. And if you’re just simply not getting any, then it’s nothing more than a slap in the face – as if corporate America is mocking you, laughing at you for buying Valentine’s Day themed M&M’s as you walk back to your room to spend some quality one-on-one time with the Internet and some single-handed typing.

Ladies, I’m just gonna say it; we hate this Valentine’s Day shit. Honestly. Your boyfriend may play along and pretend to enjoy it, but if your Valentine’s Day dinner-date causes him to miss an episode of “Lost,” he’s gonna be pissed. If this pointless holiday has anything going for us, it’s just guaranteed ass and a slimmer wallet.

You girls get all the attention, which is exactly what you want and you know it. This is your holiday. Well, it’s all yours and whoever else it is that’s making bank on Valentine’s Day – Hallmark, Russell Stover, that guy on the street who doesn’t speak English trying to get your date to buy you a $10 rose.

So this is my Valentine’s Day protest; this year I’m not buying anything for anyone. And I’ll probably get drunk and call what’s-her-face and get rejected. I’m such a dick.

I wonder how “Eve” will be spending her Valentine’s Day with what’s-his-name, uh, “Pink.” She’ll probably just skip all that love crap and get straight to the sex, because let’s face it, she’s that horny. God, I hope she writes about it.

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