S.M. Carrière . com

Seriously, this is why I don't particularly date.

Here's a little secret that's not a secret at all.

I hate Valentine's Day.

A lot.

It's not so much about partner envy.  It used to be.  I resented every happy coupling I saw.  To the point where I wanted to throw rocks at them.  Hard.  Or, better yet, throw Nokia phones!

No, really.  All those giggling idiots could step on a lego for all I wanted to see them around.

I'm a lot more mellow about that stuff.  It's not the happy couples that bother me now.

Good for you, happy couples.  Now please excuse me while I barf.

Now it's really more about the stupidity of the day, of the expectations and stress it creates, and the idiots that give this day far more importance than they actually should that I despise.  I've had many a rant about how much I hate these things about Valentine's Day, as long-time readers of the blog will know.  

To say I'm not romantic is a colossal understatement.  I've written a letter to my future lover... assuming such a thing is possible... to better explain myself.

Dear hypotheical future lover,

The above image is pretty much all you can hope to get from me.

Seriously.

I'm not especially romantic, in the traditional sense.  I mean, I adore moonlit walks on the beach, but I don't attach any particular romantic sentiment to them.  You don't want to come along?  No worries!  I'll go by myself!  I find camping more romantic than a candlelit dinner.  Want to impress me?  Prove you're intelligent.  Don't spend large sums of money on me.  I couldn't give a shit about that.

Worse still, I get annoyed with people really fast.  There are precious few people I can actually tolerate for any great length of time.  I mean, it's a big frikkin' deal if I can handle your presence without wanting to bury myself under my blankets and not move until you awkwardly leave my space.

Or without me wanting to punch your face in.

Saying I tolerate you is a big frikkin' deal.  You should be flattered.

Oh, I know you're just hypothetical, but you're a very particular kind of hypothetical future lover if you understand this about me and still stick around.  I mean, I have very litle patience, I'm not especially nuturing (I won't pity you for your pathetic man flu, alright?) and I spend an inordinate amount of time alone and I like it that way.

It doesn't mean I don't appreciate you, 'cause I do.

I tolerate you.  Now please move to the other side of the couch.  I can't breathe.

Sincerely,

Me.

This is why I will never have a boyfriend.  And I'm not sure I mind.  I mean, I don't particularly want to waste time with someone I can't tolerate... even if that means narrowing down my field to one, hypothical, likely doesn't exist, looks like Commander Shepard, future lover.

Right, I'm still editing, so I ought to go do that.  Have a fantastic Valentine's Day and for the singles out there, remember, discount chocolate tomorrow!

Bye!