So yes, today is Febuary the 14th, and yet another year of men running around Tescos last night, looking for roses, a card and chocolates, all to make sure that their respective ladies does not visit harm upon their souls. It was amazing, how many men were running around the store, just seeing what was the best.

It’s almost to the point where you just go through the motions of doing the dinner thing, giving all that crap over to the loved one, just so you have an easier life for one evening. Now I should point out, this is the second Valetines’ Day I’ve been with the Russian Assassin, Miss Levkovska, so already you could argue I’m on borrowed time before the inevitable battle on a cargo ship where I meet my end with some terrific special effects and witty dialog.

But I also want to take great pride in stating; I was not one of those men rushing around looking for aformentioned bits of tat to make the Lady of Leisure happy. Instead I was purchasing some jelly, the ready meals of joy which as we all know is the cornerstone of a balanced diet, and some bananas for my bizarre habit of eating breakfast, while trying to drive to work one handed at various (safe-ish) speeds.

I swear that’s the only thing I do while driving one handed.

Moving on, I am not worried that I don’t have flowers and all that. Why would I bother? After all, surely if you love someone you show that more often than just one day of the year? Just think of the messing around you are meant to do, finding a restaurant at the last minute, because you simply must be out on the 14th, f**k the fact there are other days in the week which are better for that and that everyone will have been trying to the same thing which means the place will be crowded, the people there smell, someone farts, it’s a terrorist attack etc.

I suppose to an extent, it’s also pressure. The pressure is there, to show that you do in fact care about the one you do various things which are hidden with a CENSORED black message box because it’s not family viewing. The pressure also comes from other people, who remark on where they are taking the naughty scamps for the blasted event. “Oh yes, I’m taking her to meet the Queen, and afterwards going around London hunting for swan.” Who actually cares?

Though, actually that whole debate can extend into what society expects of you, that you are meant to find someone, do naughty and pop out a billion babies in time for tea, which then the cycle then repeats itself over and over with events like this being a shining beacon of “This is what you are meant to do.” That’s why the single people resent it so much, they aren’t fitting into the norm and feel low as a result.

That and of course, as we “Higher Plane of Existance Gods amongst Men” know: It’s all b*****ks.

Nah, just like christmas, easter, and every single event like this, they are just meaningless days designed to rob you again of your hard or easierly earned d’argent, and if you aren’t out there with someone, you feel out in the cold and have to hide somewhere in a bunker till the fallout is over, and the radiation has dropped to an acceptable level. Christ let’s go further and stone the useless b*****ds for not being with someone. Well, even as someone in a relationship, sorry I’m just not buying into it all any more.

Here’s the gist of it: Birthdays are speical, Christmas to a degree, though I made my thoughts on those more than clear in the past. But the other times of the year, just move along, we’ve got better things to do, like mugging strangers for drugs.

Besides if I were to get Natalie something for Valentine’s day, it would be this:

Ahh, happy times….when was the last time you massacred a village with your loved one? 🙂