Happy Valentines you stupid doodyheads

Hello. Many of you without a healthy social life (read: anyone actually reading this) may not have realized this, but Valentines day, that holiest of sacred holidays has come again. Celebrated in honour of St Valentine killing a grizzly and mountain lion with his bare hands so that the children of his village could have giblets and entrails to eat all through the coming winter (I assume. Look it up yourself, what am I a history teacher?.) , Valentine's day has come to be associated with chocolate hearts and mushy romance movies. Having recently fallen victim to these halmark sentiments myself, I feel the need to vent a little about this "magical" day. Here's the story: I recently got up the courage to tell a girl (who I was already friends with) I was really into her. It didn't go so well. She was already going with this other guy (which I knew full well), but it was pretty early on in their relationship (they hadn't even kissed yet), so I figured I had a shot. Turns out I was wrong. Oh so very wrong. Now I'm left to pick up the pieces of my shattered ego and heart. (Audience: Aaaawww....)

Now, seeing how I'm not the type to take responsibility for my own mistakes (which are many), I needed some kind of scapegoat. And since this all happened to transpire around the same time as V-day, I feel that I was the victim of forces beyond my control. You see, there's a lot of money to be made from this whole Valentine's thing. Card makers, florists, chocolate manufacturers, all stand to make a cut. So it's in their best interest that we be all like lovey dovey and googley eyed and twitter pated and what not. So they try to make sure that we are. How do they do this? Well for one thing, Hollywood puts out like 38 romantic comedies, tragic love stories, and "gripping" explorations of love conquering-the-odds-and-winning-in-the-end in a given month. Even though I don't really watch these movies, I work in a video store, so I can't really escape there ubiquitous influence. Which is why, like a complete idiot, the hapless romantic part of me thought things like "So what if she works with me, it'll be okay, we're meant for each other." and "I'll sweep her off her feet so bad, she won't even remeber that other guy's name." Yeah I know, I'm retarded, but you gotta understand, you're not thinking logically when you look at someone and think to yourself "I just want to hold her in my arms" At that point your pretty much done for.

At any rate, to counteract all the crappy, sugar coated, love conquers all BS that's pretty much all you hear about this time of year, I thought I'd vent a little and put forth what I think are some slightly more realistic V-day thoughts songs/poems/ect. Some of these are gonna be a little dark, since the wounds are still a little raw, and the whole experience has left me a little more jaded than usual. This too shall pass. I'm gonna post a few right now, and a few more later after I think of some more. Enjoy

Matt's Anti V-Day sentiments:

Love means always having to say I'm sorry. Again.

A broken heart is like a flat tire. It happens when you're not expecting it, leaves you stranded, in need of a change, and often times, professional assitance.

The biggest problem with giving someone your heart, is that there stands a chance that that person may not have one of their own, and may just keep yours.

The card I want to give you isn't made by hallmark. They don't have one that says: "You reduced me to a hollow, empty shell of my former self. Give me back my diginity"

How can love be so sweet, so beautiful, and yet leave me feeling like I've been drinking poison and you threw away the antidote.

Okay this one's really dark, and a little psycho, and for that I apologize but I gotta say it anyway, it's therapeutic. Basically, I just changed the words of that crappy early 90's song "I touch myself" Here ya go.

{I cut myself, I want you to love me.

I cut myself. I know you're thinking of me.

Oh, I don't want, anybody else.

When I think about you I cut myself.

Oh I don't want anybody else

Oh no, Oh no no no...}

Please note that I'm not really into self mutilation. I was just feeling, well, like hell, and this just kinda came to me. It's actually a pretty good description of how I was feeling. Not to be overly melodramactic or anything, but it's already been a few days, and I still feel like I have some sort of terminal illness of the soul.

And on that note, I bid you adieu...

If you all have any sob stories you'd like to share, go ahead. I'm not stopping you. Or if you have one of those "power of love" stories, lay it on me. I could use a pick me up.

Until next time, I remain awesome as always,

Matt