Writings

The day known as Valentine’s Day started centuries ago with a man named St. Valentine. Of course he was just called Valentine back then. He wasn’t made a saint until after the lobbying efforts of St. Hallmark.

One day, Roman authorities arrested Valentine for scalping tickets to Game 5 of the Lions vs Christians playoff series. While in prison, he used the license plate equipment to make those candy hearts with tiny messages like “Be Mine” and “UR a X” (that makes sense if you read it using Roman numerals).

Next thing you know, a holiday is thriving and a dozen long-stem roses cost more than a barrel of oil. It’s so maddening that on one Valentine’s Day in Chicago, Al Capone ordered his men to gun down a gang of florists. Okay, maybe they were rival bootleggers, but I bet he was driven nuts after his wife bitched about getting roses at home instead of at the office like her friends.

Needless to say, I look at Valentine’s Day like I used to look at my first car after turning the ignition…I really don’t understand why it started. Furthermore, I don’t understand its traditions.

Granted, some traditions are constants. Flowers. Candy. Judgmental stares when you sit alone at Olive Garden.

But the truly confusing tradition is the one of Cupid. Cupid is a mythical angel that goes around shooting arrows into people so they can taste love. What makes him different than a guy on craigslist with strap-on wings and a taser gun? I don’t know.

Legend has it when you get struck by Cupid’s arrow, you fall in love and begin to watch HGTV instead of football with your buddies. Imagine if Pottery Barn hired Robin Hood….that’s what Cupid is.

If I wrote this column in 1989, I could stop there at jokes about roses and Cupid. But apparently when The Berlin Wall came down it unleashed a new era of expressing love. Yes, I guess I’m saying that Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev are indirectly responsible for the growing popularity of sext messages. Nauseating to think of it like that, I agree, but true.

If you don’t know, sext messages are text messages that feature photos of your privates. I’ve never done it, and I don’t advocate it….unless you have access to both your cell phone and fun-house mirror. In that case, go for it. It will both frighten her and impress her all at once, like you’re a zombie with abs.

I admit, sexting is a little crass to be in a column about Valentine’s Day. But some guys do it simply to say they want to be with someone. Guys have an incredibly difficult time saying “I love you”. One dude was so afraid to say it that he just trained his dog to do it for him. He filmed it and put it on youtube. If you haven’t seen it yet, stop reading this and google “I love you dog”. Just make sure you don’t add a comma, because “I love you, dog” will only give you a list of gay rappers (not that there’s anything wrong with that, youknowwhatImsayin).

Now that the Wall is down and the Internet is taking over, there are a ton of ways you can make your day special. A ton! There’s enough edible underwear out there to feed Indonesia. And that’s just one example.

You also have some crazier than normal gift ideas. For instance, you can capture someone’s personality or hobby in another form by custom making a Build-a-Bear or a bobble-head. No joke. Creepy, huh? They’re the perfect way to say, “I care enough about our relationship to make a cute voodoo doll of you.” Who said black magic can’t be adorable? You could also just mail your special someone a heart-shaped chain letter or glue Hershey kisses to a Ouija board.

What about fruit arrangements? Great choice, especially if you don’t mind sending your girlfriend the message that yes, those pants do make you look fat, so here’s a healthy plate of snacks.

That’s not all. You can also custom-make a “u-star” romance novel. It’s a unique way to say “You’re dreamy”. It’s also a safe way to say “I have a fetish. Let’s either role play or see other people.”

Regardless of how you do it, I hope you have a wonderful day with your special someone. I personally don’t understand this “holiday”, but I’m glad to be on the outside looking in. While all of you were spending time with flowers and dinner reservations, I found a fun-house mirror next to a Sprint tower. Gotta run.

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