I don't heart you
Walking through the main doors of Wal-Mart, I am bombarded with the colour red. Shelves stocked with every permutation of cards, chocolates and miscellaneous lovey-dovey crap.
I love you. I heart you. I love you. I heart you.
This underhanded blackmail is the true meaning of love according to the marketing department of mega retailers.
They're telling the world if someone doesn't give you a card, a box of chocolates and a dozen roses, you're not loved.
Really?
What happens if someone doesn't show up at your door with these aforementioned affirmations of their affection? What then?
I tell my father about my experience and he says it's a man's responsibility to buy something for the love of his life - ironic since he never bought anything for my mother after almost 40 years of marriage - for Valentine's Day.
When I ask him what happens if "love" isn't waiting at the door, he responds with a shrug.
Clearly, my father is a romantic.
Although it would be nice to have someone offer me a little sumthin' sumthin' for Valentine's Day, I won't be sad if it doesn't happen. Believe me, there won't be a box of tissues and DVDs of sappy movies to keep me company.
Who cares if no one hearts me on Valentine's Day?
I don't heart you, either.
I love you. I heart you. I love you. I heart you.
This underhanded blackmail is the true meaning of love according to the marketing department of mega retailers.
They're telling the world if someone doesn't give you a card, a box of chocolates and a dozen roses, you're not loved.
Really?
What happens if someone doesn't show up at your door with these aforementioned affirmations of their affection? What then?
I tell my father about my experience and he says it's a man's responsibility to buy something for the love of his life - ironic since he never bought anything for my mother after almost 40 years of marriage - for Valentine's Day.
When I ask him what happens if "love" isn't waiting at the door, he responds with a shrug.
Clearly, my father is a romantic.
Although it would be nice to have someone offer me a little sumthin' sumthin' for Valentine's Day, I won't be sad if it doesn't happen. Believe me, there won't be a box of tissues and DVDs of sappy movies to keep me company.
Who cares if no one hearts me on Valentine's Day?
I don't heart you, either.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
5 Comments:
if you heart yourself too much ... you'll go blind
Maybe I shouldn't point this out but...didn't this post have a completely different title before? Something about hearting yourself? And I'm sure there was no mention of "loving yourself blind" when I read the post this morning...at least until after six shooter made the joke.
Cause now the joke makes no sense either.
I'm just saying....
You are correct, Ash.
I never liked the ending (and the original title was called I don't heart you).
Later, I changed the title, the ending, then changed both of them, again.
And, I may change them again since I am still not happy with the result.
I just heart myself enough to have to wear glasses.
Hey ... yeah .. now my joke makes no sense. Thanks a lot!
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