It’s over now. Thank God.

I think that Valentine’s Day is an evil, evil thing.

I remember when I was little it meant staying up for ages to write out cards for everyone in your class (even for the boy that ate paste that you didn’t like who you will end up dating 18 years later and when you break up with him– out of curiosity – only out of curiosity mind you– you will still read his horoscope and his blog and when you see women looking cozy with him on his uploaded flickr pics you will cackle to yourself and think ‘just wait until they realize he is evil’ but then part of you wonders if the evil one is you—I mean they look so cute cuddling on the beach—but then you remember there were pictures like that that he had taken with you and it’s not that you want him back- Jesus- fuck- god no- You just want every female on the planet to know that even though you don’t want him anywhere near you and even though he has a Rainman ability to talk about music and movies, he hasn’t taken his medication for a long, long LONG time which means he will be a freak to your friends and drink all of your good booze and pass out and snore really loudly—after. . . a-hem. . .

I’ll get me coat,

Another boyfriend who was a friend for a very long time – who I recently cut off when he stopped acting like a friend ought to—when we were together became rather verbally violent (five- six years ago or so) when I opened his V-day present and didn’t achieve a pre-determined level of ooooooooooo suuuuuuperrrrrrrrrrr awessssommmmmmmeeeee (insert orgasmic expletive here)

The gift was—

A silicon dildo.

A PURPLE silicon dildo.

Yeahhh. What every girl wants. Not that I was complaining exactly.

So wa’ ‘appened.

I open a present, Big Purple Dick Inside A Box.

I laughed.

If I may ask, what would you do if you opened a box and found a big purple dick inside?

I’m just saying.

Even if you wanted a big purple Justin Timberlake- (keep in mind he was still just a Mouseketeer) dick in a box you would probably giggle. . .

Anyhoo, I laughed– but since he and I had been having problems—him being psychotic and all, my giggling at the purple (his favourite colour) member didn’t go over well.

At work in America, V-Day was always about chicks getting big stupid arrangements of flowers from big stupid idiot boyfriends/husbands/girlfriends/themselves that left the big stupid idiot chicks that didn’t receive the big stupid idiot arrangement feeling like they were lacking something—like they missed the class on how to give head or something. Even when I was one of the big stupid idiot chicks that got the big stupid idiot arrangement, I felt like a big stupid fake half (most) the time. . . but maybe that’s just because I wished my boyfriend would be hit by a bus.

Luckily there wasn’t that problem in my department today. Not one stupid arrangement.

Maybe it’s an English thing.

Oh yes. Sorry. Errum. No. We don’t go for big stupid arrangements of flowers that indicates some level of general feeling. No. No. We would much rather. . . well. We’ll talk later in the cab when we don’t think anyone is listening- but yes. It is VERY naughty indeed. . . Oh yes, you bad, bad, naughty dirty girl. . .

Sorry. I’m spiralling.

Valentines Day was something that that my dad would always try to do something a little special. A box of chocolate. A card. It made me a touch grumpy for a while as a young adult when I realized that dad was a fuck fit and that most men – in fact everyone actually was a fuck wit. . .
I was a ball at parties.

Stuart doesn’t ‘ do’ V-Day. At first this bothered me. Now I think it is fantastic. I would so much rather have a man in my life that buys me a book on a random Saturday because he knows I would like it verses candy, dinner, new panties (well actually I can do with some more pants) etc.

I must admit I couldn’t help myself and I had a plant sent to him today. The best part is Mr. Anti-gift loved it.

So V-Day, I’ve hated it for ages- but today was nice. I woke up cuddled against Stuart. I had drinks and a meal with him and some of his work mates. As soon as I spell check this I will be ending the day cuddled next to that annoying pain in the ass.

I think it might be the best Valentines’ Day ever. . .

But it’s over now.

Thank God.

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