Ugly read monkeys are romantic. But not nearly as much so as turning spacetime on its head to spend Valentine’s Day with someone special (circa 1930).
Unfortunately, it would seem both the ugly red monkey and the ability to reverse time’s arrow are confined, at least for now, to my imagination. Pity.
I’ve never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. I’m not the sort to sit and brood because I’ve been left out. It’s not like I fit in in any other aspect of the civilized world. What’s one more event?
No, I think it is more to do with the fact that I’m allergic to all candy worth eating. It just doesn’t seem right contributing to an industry that plots against my wellbeing, even if they do package doom in clever heart-shaped boxes.
True story: last year, I bought Sisly a cactus for Valentine’s Day. Despite what you’re thinking, it was a romantic gesture. Had I given her any other kind of flower, she’d have killed it and then felt bad about herself.
True story: I once bought Kate a cactus, though not for any particular occasion. With her history of killing plants, I figured it’d pick up her self-esteem. Lo and behold she forgot to water it (ever, it would seem) and it died.
It would appear I don’t date nurturing women.