In response to the vomit-inducing, over-marketed holiday that is Valentine’s Day, I would like to lobby to have a new holiday on the yearly calendar: Losers’ Day.
Really, Valentine’s Day is redundant. Couples already get to do cool, sappy, “togetherness” things on every other holiday. Why do they need another day solely devoted to them?
We always talk about what couples did for V-Day. Romantic dinner, buckets of ice and champagne, $100 flower arrangements and hip-expanding boxes of chocolates. Don’t forget the trendy “propose in a hot-air balloon shaped like a heart” story. But what do the single people do on V-Day? We sit around and feel sorry for ourselves and hug the teddy bears our mothers gave us because they felt sorry for us, too.
So I have an idea: Losers’ Day. Couples not allowed to participate. There is no PDA on Losers’ Day, or candy hearts or flowers or jewelry commercials. This day is all about us, the lonely ones, the ones with more battery-operated devices than we care to admit. I’d like a parade in our honor. Block off the streets for miles, and let one sad little pathetic Single stomp through town to symbolize the scrutiny and isolation we go through.
Okay, so maybe that’s too much. If I got picked to be the parade I’d probably shoot myself afterward.
All bars would serve free alcohol to Singles on Losers’ Day. After all, every other night of the year we Singles keep the taverns open, drinking enough to find another drunk loser to go home with. Give a little back, guys. Let our shameful unions be free on this glorious day.
Note: Couples must stay home on this day. We all know the disappointment that comes crashing down when we’ve just spent 45 minutes chatting up someone new, getting excited, thinking, “This could be the one! I could be in love. I’ll have someone to hold my hand, and hold my head when I puke!” And then this wonderful specimen nods to their significant other walking in the door and strands you there, your heart in your throat. You look around and know that even the bartender feels pity for you, you desperate sad sack.
Think about it, ladies and gentlemen. A whole day where anyone you meet is a possibility. Tomorrow you go back to being lonely, wanting to melt every lovey-dovey couple you see with acid, but on Losers’ Day you are king.
Really, Valentine’s Day is redundant. Couples already get to do cool, sappy, “togetherness” things on every other holiday. Why do they need another day solely devoted to them?
We always talk about what couples did for V-Day. Romantic dinner, buckets of ice and champagne, $100 flower arrangements and hip-expanding boxes of chocolates. Don’t forget the trendy “propose in a hot-air balloon shaped like a heart” story. But what do the single people do on V-Day? We sit around and feel sorry for ourselves and hug the teddy bears our mothers gave us because they felt sorry for us, too.
So I have an idea: Losers’ Day. Couples not allowed to participate. There is no PDA on Losers’ Day, or candy hearts or flowers or jewelry commercials. This day is all about us, the lonely ones, the ones with more battery-operated devices than we care to admit. I’d like a parade in our honor. Block off the streets for miles, and let one sad little pathetic Single stomp through town to symbolize the scrutiny and isolation we go through.
Okay, so maybe that’s too much. If I got picked to be the parade I’d probably shoot myself afterward.
All bars would serve free alcohol to Singles on Losers’ Day. After all, every other night of the year we Singles keep the taverns open, drinking enough to find another drunk loser to go home with. Give a little back, guys. Let our shameful unions be free on this glorious day.
Note: Couples must stay home on this day. We all know the disappointment that comes crashing down when we’ve just spent 45 minutes chatting up someone new, getting excited, thinking, “This could be the one! I could be in love. I’ll have someone to hold my hand, and hold my head when I puke!” And then this wonderful specimen nods to their significant other walking in the door and strands you there, your heart in your throat. You look around and know that even the bartender feels pity for you, you desperate sad sack.
Think about it, ladies and gentlemen. A whole day where anyone you meet is a possibility. Tomorrow you go back to being lonely, wanting to melt every lovey-dovey couple you see with acid, but on Losers’ Day you are king.
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