by Emily Adams
It’s the Monday after Fourth of July, or as CVS knows it, a day too late to begin the Valentine’s blitzkrieg. In the short span of eight months until its arrival, single ladies Instagram their indifference, boasting about Galentines plans and prioritizing themselves. To hell with pink, chocolate, and sap. Love yourself and love your friends. Right?
Wrong.
Too easy.
Go ahead, condemn romance and all that it represents. Burn that Dirty Dancing DVD. Damn every last Godiva truffle to hell. But remember your commitment to hatred when sitting around a table with sixteen of your favorite friends. Is this what Valentine’s Day is really about? Jessica chars the annual V-day meatloaf. You’re fatally allergic to the pecans in Sandy’s pecan sandies and everything they’ve touched. Are those papier maché Pinterest lanterns sagging off the ceiling really doing it for you?
Valentine’s Day is more than a diaper-clad demigod shooting arrows up the occasional ass. It’s a day to show your love to others, but not just any ‘others,’ and definitely not to that Snapchatting, meat-burning group of girls you call your gals.
Think hard about your life. Think about those in it. Think more specifically about those in it who are loyal. Who are hygienic. Who have an inexplicable yet justifiable hatred of water and an affinity for milk served on the floor. Are they sitting with you at this nauseatingly human table? I don’t see them.
Perhaps because they’ve fled the vicinity upon the arrival of your ‘crew’. Do yourself and your Valentine’s Day a favor this year.
Make time for yourself and your kittens.
Split a sundae.
Plan a dinner date.
Rent a yacht and hire a masseuse, animal friendly of course.
The possibilities are endless. The love is bottomless. Throw down the dough for you and your feline friend. They are the best kind. And you deserve the best.
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