Valentine's Day is for Suckers
So here I am again, faced with another loathesome Hallmark holiday that is somehow supposed to make a guy feel like he's making up for 364 days of being an asshole the rest of the year...and yea, I guess I'm still bitter...I was hoping maybe the main man in my life would surprise me with flowers at the door, but, since he lives six hours away, and he happens to be my dad, I guess that doesn't constitute a real valentine huh? Pathetic.
Either way, I continue to return to the same place, every year for the past 5, on February 13th, faced head-on with the following 24 hours of seeing everyone ELSE get treated nicely, while I sit on my couch crying into a box of Chocolate/Peanut Butter ice cream, watching Golden Girls re-runs and seeing how long I can go before I open the 6th beer. Then, topping the 6er off with a couple of sleeping pills and eventually ending up on the front porch of my building screaming "fuck all ya'll" at 3am, I finally sink into my oh-so-comfortable bed for a mind-numbing game of "how do we forget about shit this time". No, no wait...I'm not bitter, I'm just pissed. Rightly so. This doesn't mean I'm giving up on life as we know it...no. This doesn't mean I give a shit about anyone else right now...not a chance. But what this does mean is that if I don't have my lips wrapped around the barrel of a shotgun by the end of the evening, it'll be a fucking miracle.
Wait...I guess that does sound like I'm a little bitter. Ok, maybe a little. Yes, I drink, I smoke, I party, I'm "one of the guys"...but that doesn't mean I'm not still a woman, with woman's needs, woman's emotions, woman's insatiable urge to blame everything on herself and deem herself not worthy of a damn thing, even though she's done nothing wrong...
Hmm..now where'd I put that Xanax....
Either way, I continue to return to the same place, every year for the past 5, on February 13th, faced head-on with the following 24 hours of seeing everyone ELSE get treated nicely, while I sit on my couch crying into a box of Chocolate/Peanut Butter ice cream, watching Golden Girls re-runs and seeing how long I can go before I open the 6th beer. Then, topping the 6er off with a couple of sleeping pills and eventually ending up on the front porch of my building screaming "fuck all ya'll" at 3am, I finally sink into my oh-so-comfortable bed for a mind-numbing game of "how do we forget about shit this time". No, no wait...I'm not bitter, I'm just pissed. Rightly so. This doesn't mean I'm giving up on life as we know it...no. This doesn't mean I give a shit about anyone else right now...not a chance. But what this does mean is that if I don't have my lips wrapped around the barrel of a shotgun by the end of the evening, it'll be a fucking miracle.
Wait...I guess that does sound like I'm a little bitter. Ok, maybe a little. Yes, I drink, I smoke, I party, I'm "one of the guys"...but that doesn't mean I'm not still a woman, with woman's needs, woman's emotions, woman's insatiable urge to blame everything on herself and deem herself not worthy of a damn thing, even though she's done nothing wrong...
Hmm..now where'd I put that Xanax....
posted by Elle Dee at 4:37 PM
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