I actually don't mind the holiday. And not just because of the candy. I'm quite content with buying my dog a bone and some tennis balls and calling her my Valentine. It's when I get the high pitched hapless "Oh, honeys" when I tell people about her that really annoys me. Just because I'm single does not mean I'm a bitter betty on Sweetheart's Day. Whatever happened to the empowerment of Kelly Clarkson's "Miss Independent" or Beyonce's "Single Ladies?" Apparently us independent women are not allowed to enjoy a holiday for those who come in paris. We're not on Noah's Ark anymore. And I see nothing wrong with enjoying a relatively harmless holiday... unless you're a 1920s gangster.
I was all prepared to spend the day blending into the background, contemplating who Bruno Mars would catch a grenade for, why in God's name he would do that, and what kind of hardcore Mafia shit this person is involved in. However, since there has been a rush of customers at good ol' MC Nickels calling me either fat and/or ugly, a friend suggested that I try to look my best on Singles Awareness Day. Apparently these ladies like to insult my relatively average, plain-Jane appearance because they are trying to make themselves feel better about being overly made-up, leather skinned, middle aged hussies. Unfortunately, when I tried to actually dress up and look somewhat girly, I ended up in all black (What?! It's slimming) and I looked like one of those bitter bettys I was just complaining about. Now it seemed like I was walking around with a target on my back for the single ladies who are desperately looking for a man to put a ring on it... but they would have better luck with a blind man. Most of the women are angry to begin with, but it seems like this holiday amplified it ten fold. I didn't get any direct insults, just a few glares and up-down glances and scoffs. Oh! A dyed blonde, Barbie make up, collagen lipped bimbo did have to grit her teeth to be nice to me. That was fun.
All of this made me feel slightly better about being mistaken for being preggers a couple weeks ago. Then I remembered the Discovery Channel special last night where it scientifically explored the "number system" of mating, which I thought only existed in bad comedies. They actually assigned people numbers based on their attractiveness, which I find insulting not only to the human race, but to math (which, btw, is my least favorite science). Really? Doesn't the Discovery Channel have sharks to film, taxi cab passengers to surprise, deadly things to catch and dirty jobs to exploit? Do they really need to point out how superficial people are? Not to mention, remind me I am a 3 at best. Oh, well, my "attractiveness" number might be low, but I'm pretty sure I scored a 10 with my Valentine.
Ain't she adorable?
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