Valentines Day is funny, but I can't decide if it's funny-ha-ha, or just funny-sad. It's the one day of the year where everyone has to act like they actually like each other; married men have to remember to spend money on their wives or suffer a woman's wrath, children have to buy little pieces of foiled-covered cardboard and give them out to a bunch of other 8-year-olds who they don't even like, and teenagers get to bitch that they're single again - as if they don't have the rest of their lives to fall in love (it's really not that much of a tragedy, high-schoolers).
Furthermore, while I was walking home today the flower shop was absolutely swarming with men trying to pick the right flowers for their significant others. Here's the thing: stop with the flowers! It's like, "Here's a token of my love. Only you have to make sure to keep them in water and to properly care for them, even though they're going to die in a week either way." Yeah, work for my love, but don't expect it to last. That's so romantic. (Also, I just don't appreciate almost being run over by a bunch of dudes trying to buy flowers at 1:30 in the afternoon. You should have had this shit figured out before your wife woke up. Someone was obviously in some hot water, mm?)
And so, what the hell? If you're going to bother telling someone you love them, tell them on a day that you're not obligated. Stop pretending that 'love is in the air.' In reality, everyone hates everyone, and yet we're all pretending that we love each other because February 14th said we had to. Here's the deal: I won't believe anyone who says they love me until tomorrow. Even then we're getting a little iffy. Maybe just don't tell me you love me until March.
And uh, yeah. There's a quick rant for you. I have class tonight and I really need to get my homework wrapped up before then, so I'll update this later.