We all know that Cupid is a capitalist whore and that Valentine’s Day is just a money-making scheme, but so is Christmas and your birthday, and you don’t mind getting those presents, do ya?
I myself can take or leave Valentine’s Day. I’m reminded of being single most days; I don’t need a special holiday in the arse crack of winter to jog my memory.
Like Christmas, with all its love and human connection, Valentine’s Day isn’t really my thing.
But if you’re just dying to be my Valentine because you’ve heard how funny I am, how good I am in the sack, or how big my bank balance is (two truths and a lie, Jenna, not three lies), then here are my rules:
- You must be elderly, have poor health and no living relatives.
- You must be willing to get the blackheads that I can’t reach. Those little black dots on my back are now the size of blueberries.
- You must be disgustingly rich. I have an expensive lifestyle and my dad tells me that he’s no longer going to fund it.
- You must not think that coffee is a hobby. It’s a drink, not a personality trait, dickhead.
- You must have your own friends. None of whom can be better looking than me, funnier than me, or a woman.
- You must be sensitive, caring and willing to take on my abundance of mental issues at any given time. I am not blessed with the emotional resources to deal with life, so you’ll have to take some of the load.
- Again, I cannot stress how important the size of your bank balance is.
- You’ve got to be patient with me and always be willing to supply me with carbs, especially when my mercury is in retrograde. Which, funnily enough, is all the bloody time.
- While I’d love for you to be blonde, 6 foot, have sparkly blue eyes, a hilarious sense of humour and a banging figure,—I will settle for 5 foot 10.
- You must insist on paying for everything, be obsessed with giving massages, and survive my Chernobyl-level toxic mind games.
And if you tick all of these boxes, congratulations! I will let you buy me a drink.
Naturally, I’ll ghost you after one date because if you’ve ticked all these boxes, then it’s actually a hard no. You’re still into me after that list? That shows very poor judgment on your part.
Also, there are no boxes, just numbered bullets. If you’re seeing boxes, then you’re clearly a psychopath (or a narcissist).
Oh christ, are you a narcissist? In that case, I’m already incredibly attracted to you and waiting for you in my bed.
Bring the carbs.