Well, Valentine’s Day was a hoot and a holler this year! That sentence was written before Valentine’s Day, so pretend like I didn’t write it.
This year I’m going do something different on Valentine’s Day. I know what you’re thinking – he’s going to be depressed or bitter or he’s going to take some friend out on a date. Yeah, right. No more of that cynicism we love to lean on. And while we’re at it, no more “anti-Valentine’s Day” parties, please. Forget about flowers and candlelit dinners, forget debating with yourself about whether or not romance and chivalry are dead in our generation. You should especially forget about taking it upon yourself to revive them. Give it all up. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, loathing, and every other V-Day tradition, I’m going to spend the day treating myself to a special, and memorable, Saint Valentine’s Day.
When I wake up around 3 PM to eat the unfinished Cro pizza I passed out eating in bed the previous night, I’m going to go out to Munson’s bakery and buy a big red heart box full of candies. I listed that in my interests on Facebook like three months ago, but no one commented on it so I took it down.
This year, instead of smothering my grief with a trayful of grease-fries at Harris, I’ll cradle my Munson’s Love Package, find a nicely-exposed table in the middle of the cafeteria, and commemorate the one year anniversary of Lobstergate. I plan on inadvertently offending anyone who thought the dining staff had personally cooked my chocolates, gone to Munson’s to buy a beautiful box, put a pretty bow on it, and crafted a beautiful calligraphic note (that, of course, I will have made myself). I know that I once mentioned how much I just loved calligraphy and thought it was, like, a really cute way to write.
One of the chocolates will have a rancid, unbuttered lobster center which will remind me of the bitterness felt on this campus but one year ago. Don’t laugh at any of that, that’s the important learning portion of my day, which is totally sexy.
Then I’ll follow that bitter chocolate-of-the-sea flavor with all the rest of the chocolates, preferably two-by-two so as to avoid any more surprises, which I hate. All day there will be steady pounding of chocolate.
When I have fattened myself up, I’ll go back to my room, light some candles, put on D’Angelo, and watch a few episodes of Gossip Girl which I’m almost certain I like because I remember that I once ended a conversation with myself, “XOXO, Gossip Jake.” When it comes time to go to bed, I will slowly and sensually remove my clothes, make sure my mouth is fresh and cleaned, and casually slip into bed. This is when it becomes either awkward or beautiful. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.
After some solo-spooning, I will eventually shiver myself to sleep with the horrifying thought that I had just spent an entire day pretending that I was my own lover. This is when I decide to revert back to the tradition of making Valentine’s Day cards for all of the girls in class I like and then burning them.
People who feel the need to tear Jake apart:
He wrote an inflammatory article that has elicited a lot of interesting, and necessary, dialogue between different people on campus. Your responses, however, are completely undermining any constructive discourse that could come out of this. You are simply proving his point and embarrassing those who are trying to defend you.
I doubt this will stop your ignorant bashing, but I hope you know you’re supporting Jake’s argument.