The Valentine’s Edition

Valentines Edition

Valentine’s Day? Or what the more bitter singletons call Singles’ Awareness Day? Nay, I unofficially deem it Independents’ Day.

Not in an overbearing “I’m-a-strong-sassy-independent-chick-who-don’t-need-no-man” way, more like I don’t have any commitments to a loved one (or “liked one”?) this evening and so choose to spend it with my cats – er, I mean friends. But seriously, I actually do have plans tonight that require me to wear something other than athletic garb.

Go on, make your teasing quips of how yes, I’m single by choice, just not my choice. HAHA. This is only partially true (I hope?). Just means more chocolate for me, fool.

But snarky comments aside, I decided to tastefully compose yet another poem dedicated to the celebration of Valentine’s. Although, in the words of Sheldon Cooper, “Given that Saint Valentine was a third century Roman Priest who was stoned and beheaded, wouldn’t a more appropriate celebration of the evening be taking one steady gal to witness a brutal murder?” But let’s not get into technicalities.

“On Valentine’s”

Roses are red

Violets are blue

My mother sent me

Some heart-shaped bamboo.

I don’t know the difference

Between a peony and carnation

All I know is I don’t have to sit through

A Nicholas Sparks film adaptation,

Or share my bowl of popcorn

With a nonexistent male.

I’ve circled the 15th of February when

All the Toblerone goes on sale!

But I’m willing to share my wisdom

With my clueless committed lads

Gone astray by Vermont Teddy Bear

And 1-800 Pajama Gram ads.

Don’t buy your girl an iPhone

Equipped with a tracking app.

Remember that fragrance commercials

Are all full of crap.

To the girlfriends on their phones

Whining “No, you hang up first!”

Keep at it, my ladies and I will

Happily hit y’all with my purse.

But since it’s the day of love

I won’t resort to violence

So long as you and your boy come to

Some sort of conversation-ending alliance.

As for me, on Cupid’s fine holiday

I’ll don my semi-formal sweatpants.

And may or may not spend the evening

Filming my version of the Harlem Shake dance.


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