Motherfucking Valentines Day

I hate you, Valentines Day. Or VD, as that is what you shall now be known as. You certainly feel like an uncomfortable boil on a sensitive area.

I hate you VD, because you are everyone who looked on smugly from their tables in Irish Village at the poor single guy walking around. I hate you because you are every couple at the club who flicked away from the nervous single guy standing in corner who didn't know how to dance. You are every group of single women who huddled together when they saw the nerd with glasses whenever he ran into them. You are every woman who judges a man in this godforsaken place by the clothes they wear, the watch he wears and the car he drives.

I hate you because you are every teenager prancing around with a little fitty fil heart shaped monstrosity handing out to random girls and I sure as hell don't remember getting one back in the day.

I hate you because you are every girl who wouldn't give me the time of day. You were the nice girl who wanted better, the pretty girl who was slumming, the popular girl who wasn't sure.

I hate you VD, because I can't find a woman here. As in literally, there are no women left. And the ones that are, know they can do better so they wait.

I hate you, Valentines Day, because you are A Lie.