A Curse on St. Valentine

Curse you St. Valentine for you have cursed endless generations of men with your romantic crap. How dare you set a standard so high that you would be willing for love to die. How can the rest of us match that effort to catch a woman’s eye? Or a man’s? You think this only burdens hetero men? Hardly. You’ve cursed us all on this day of love and so at last I have the courage, no the plain rage, to curse you back.

What’s the real story anyways you saint of love? Saving Christians from Nero’s lions? Or was it falling in love with your jailer’s daughter? What does any of that have to do with modern romance when there are no more Romans?

So curse you lamest of all saints. Now there is an entire day that makes people anxious for if they show not appropriate levels of affection they may find themselves in the singles section.

But are chocolates and flowers enough? Hardly. That’s been done for decades, now we have to every year set new records. Jewelry again maybe? Certainly Kay thinks so. But how much can one person show through this common gesture? Buying these things is now required, thanks to you St. Valentine.

So I hope the other saints laugh at you for the silly things we do to celebrate you. Saint of chocolates I hope you get pudgy and break out. May you prick your finger on roses and may cheap jewelry stain your skin. May your crush reject your advances and crush your heart and may you sob quietly in the dark like so many hurt souls do every year on the day contrived to celebrate you and whatever nonsense you did to earn your wings. May they be to weak to lift your sunken spirit weighed down with rejection on a day that demands affection.

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