So it's Valentine's Day! Even though I am single, I try not to be one of those anti-Valentines. I love watching my co-workers' husbands send them roses. I love seeing all the lovey-dovey facebook posts between couples. I favor sappy music on this day. I even wore red.
I know that fighting off the urge to wear black and mulch your co-worker’s roses in the blender can be tough for some of us on Valentine’s Day. But I really try to focus on the positive. It gives me a good feeling inside to know that all around me, there is love.
And then the inevitable happens. That chunky little flying cherub finishes making his rounds spreading the love, and decides to pay me a visit.
"Hi, Jen. It's been a while. How have you been?"
I tell him I've been well, keeping busy, focusing on myself, blah blah blah.
Since Cupid's business is selling love, he's not buying it. And he sharply reminds me that no one is sending me flowers or cutesy-putesy emails today. That I won't be going home to open arms and a candlelit house. I'm going home to a smelly Beagle, a whiney cat and a lot of freelance work. He points out that I don't quite fill out my red sweater and my dress pants give me diaper butt.
"I know, cupid. But I've been putting myself out there. I’ve been trying, really, I have."
He slaps me with his bow, "You're not trying hard enough! What's with the hair? And you could have at least worn a little mascara today."
That’s when the switch flips. I grab the arrow out of his grubby mitts and stick it into the meaty part of his fat little ass.
"Go away, you wicked little imp. Everyone knows you're full of shit anyway."
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!
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