soapboxdiner

V-day sucks

In an effort to preempt the inevitable V-day blues from setting in, I got myself a date for tonight - doing all those "date" things that couples do. You know, the movie, the popcorn, the large soda with two straws. I settled down low into the movie seat and leaned to my left, so as to whisper some tender nothings into my beloved's ear. We shared candies and held hands and giggled mischieviously together as Ben Affleck flew across the silver New York skyline.

Which all would have been really really great, if my date hadn't have been 6 years old.

As as a testament to the depressing aura this holiday exudes for those of (me) that happen to be single and attached, I am sitting here on Diaryland, staring at a buddy list without a single red indicator to demonstrate that I am not alone in my pathetic-ness.

Curses to you, V-day! Curses!

Bah humbug. I'm leaving now. I'm going to get naked with loads of $20s and discount V-day rose petals from the Super Safeway. That'll show the bastards at Hallmark who doesn't need scheduled love. Um hm.

Yeah.

8:06 pm - 02.14.03
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