Not repeat NOT doing the Valentinr meme.
I've used up half of my three score years plus ten, and as far as romance is concerned, I've got the skill-set of a fourth-grade introvert. Every year (save last year, because I was too damn busy at the time to even realize it), I get this sense that I want to find a hole in the ground and crawl into it, and every year, I'm hauled out by family who think of that day as worthy of celebration, and people who think "oh, it's SO ROMANTIC, you were born on Valentine's Day," and I'm thinking Ripley and Hicks were right, nuke 'em from orbit, it's the only way to be sure---
--sorry. V-Day has infiltrated Athens, it seems. According to one of my co-workers, it's only happened in the last ten years or so.
I hate being systematically treated like some odd class of inferior being. I hate being told through every outlet that I have to be doing X, Y, or Z, or else I'm some sort of freak.
And I'm aware that I'm probably projecting a lot of my own personal issues onto the whole V-Day fiasco, but those frustrations have to either fester until they metastasize, or be vented in some manner or other.
--sorry. V-Day has infiltrated Athens, it seems. According to one of my co-workers, it's only happened in the last ten years or so.
I hate being systematically treated like some odd class of inferior being. I hate being told through every outlet that I have to be doing X, Y, or Z, or else I'm some sort of freak.
And I'm aware that I'm probably projecting a lot of my own personal issues onto the whole V-Day fiasco, but those frustrations have to either fester until they metastasize, or be vented in some manner or other.