Tomorrow is “Sweetest Day” here in the US. If ever there were a more ridiculous holiday than Valentine’s Day, this is it. Apparently, Sweetest Day is a day where chicks give their d00ds candy, possibly with a carefully thought out greeting card message like,
“Here you go, you fat fuck. Get fatter. I hate you.”
Well, maybe not exactly that, but you get the gist. Regardless, I’ve never celebrated the day (because it’s fucking stupid). I also hate Valentines Day. Have you ever been in front of the greeting card racks at around 5:30 PM on Valentine’s Day? There you will find a dozen or so men pawing through the remnants of what used to be a wide variety of funny and thoughtful and deep and meaningful Valentine’s Day cards but which has become a very limited supply of tackiness and cheese. And amongst this scrum of desperate men will be me, clinging onto a bent and crushed Whitman’s Sampler that I had to wrestle away from some poor sap digging through the fake roses (note here that I’m not above kicking someone in the junk at this point).
Anyway, being the hopeless romantic that I am, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about love… well technically I’ve been thinking a lot about sex. Not getting any for a while tends to do that to a person. But sex and love are interchangeable, right?
Yeah, OK I couldn’t even type that with a straight face. But I’ve been doing a very detailed study over the past year or so and I’ve come to the conclusion that the whole “Happily Ever After” thing is mostly bullshit. After studying and analyzing all the married couples I know, I would say that 99% of them are fucking miserable. (Keep in mind that I’m talking about the married couples I know who have been married for more than 5ish years – prior to that you are in some crazy, but short-lived, stage of false bliss.) Some of them are in denial and they THINK they are happy, but after watching their interactions, it’s easy to see that they are full of shit.
Ironically the couples who appear to be the happiest are probably the most miserable ones of all. Maybe misery increases your acting skills. I dunno, but I had a couple of acquaintances who I thought were the exception to my rule, so I point blank asked them if they were happy, and I found out that a few of them were cheating on their spouses.
…wait a second….
…..perhaps they weren’t miserable after all. Perhaps infidelity is the key to a happy marriage!
Holy shit: epiphany!
I should be a marriage counselor!
(Yeah. I know. God help us all if that were to happen, eh?)
I guess it's also possible that I just know miserable people. Who knows? But the thing is that perhaps monogamy made sense when we all kicked it at 30 because it was easy then. Plus who had the time back then to fuck around on each other?
I suppose the idea is that you start out with a lusty love that evolves into a companionship love so that you have someone to sit out on the front porch with when you're 90 as you lovingly watch the spawn of your spawn at play in the front yard. And if there are hiccups and bumps along the way, but you persevere through it, it makes life and love totally worth it, right?
Right. What they don't tell you is that by the time the whole 90 porch sitting extravaganza rolls around it's highly likely you'll be sitting, neglected by your own family, on the front porch of a shady nursing home in a wheelchair and diapers. And it's even more likely that at least one of you will be fucking dead.
And on that cheery note, Happy Sweetest Day, all! :)
Blog Central >