Romance for Shitheads
Do not read this if you’re my ex and you care about that.
They say that the ones who bitch about Valentine’s day care the most. I had that reaction last year too. It reminds of something someone smarter than me once told me, “The opposite of love is not hate. It’s indifference. You get angry because you care.”
By that rationale, I would hate Valentine’s because I care about it, though there is nothing to care about when you’re single. Except the fact that you’re single, which suggest that you’re just plain jealous. Thus, the people bitching about the people bitching about Valentine’s their response basically boils down to, “You’re just jealous”.
This year it went past like a breeze, hardly noticed. I wouldn’t even have remembered if it wasn’t automatically displayed on my agenda. And let me point out a little fact that makes the haters-haters’ argument instantly invalid: I don’t actually care about Valentine’s or people being romantic, I care about people being romantic at me.
By all means, love each other, kiss, French if you must, fuck like rabbits, just not where I’m standing. Same goes for sappy romance. Gay, straight, same thing applies.
Do you hate smokers? Probably not. Do you hate smokers smoking near you? I’m sure a few hands go down here, but in fact I do not. Do you hate smokers blowing in your face? If my point isn’t clear, I give up.
But what is my point, if it isn’t the need to repeat myself on a yearly basis? I think I might be a closet romantic. Because I take pictures of sunsets, because I love to share one with someone, because I too get goose bumps at certain things said at certain times. The contrast with others is faint so it usually escapes my attention, except when I’m among colleagues.
Showbiz is filled to the brink with the most cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic bastards of today’s society and I love them all but I can never stay around them long without going into some discussion where they try to convince me what a black shithole of a life we have, how Belgium is a laughable country with a government that can’t run a nation any better than dress themselves, how our employer has the tactical wit of a chimpanzee, how the yeah you get the point.
And I walk among them, gazing dreamily at the view while we pin the roof in place, watching shows and enjoying them, and searching (and finding!) some beauty in what we do, regardless of what it is. I’m not sure how closely related this would be to conventional romance as Valentine faeries like to masturbate to, but it would be nice if I knew a few more people who tend to point out a nice or curious view like I tend to- Or refrain from doing, depending on how manly I want to seem that night.
I still hate Valentine’s, though. I wish I could punch it in the dick.