Valentine's Day: Pricey, Plastic Passion?

Today is the big day. Valentine’s Day…

A day when men purchase overpriced roses, perhaps a shiny bauble or two, and then take their loved one out for fine wine and food.

Later in the day, some men may even do the same thing for their wife.

What does said male unit get for his trouble and generosity?

Twelve words, “Awwwww, thanks honey. I can’t wait to tell all of my friends.”

Love is cruel.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not completely against one’s love taking on the form of some tangible, commercial reward, but it should be mutual.

Too often it is not, and on this day, I see too many men suffering from unrequited bling bestowment.

I guess one of my biggest peeves about Valentine’s Day is that Marketing Nazi’s try to coerce men into buying something for their target of affection.

Why buy something?

Creating something from one’s own heart, mind, and soul would be much more personal and romantic. Would it not?

For instance, this Valentine’s Day, I put together a memory box for Schmoop. It contains items that conjure up images from the first time we met.

The box contains a picture of a case of Bud Light, a leather belt, baby oil, and the very pair of red silk panties that she wore (albeit briefly) on the night we met.

That my friends was a special night.

It wasn’t just love and roses though. There was some angst and regret of how quickly the passion unfolded. I tried to somehow bottle Schmoop’s regret from that night.

I decided to symbolize that feeling by filling a shot glass full of my urine and leaving the toilet seat up.

Matt-Man: Ar-teest Amor!!

See? Personal handcrafted gifts are much better than say, Pajama Grams. Have you seen those commercials for Pajama Grams? Gimme a break.

The ad says something like…Hey Guys, order your woman a sexy pair of pajamas for Valentine’s Day and have it delivered to her in a fancy hat box.

The ad and the visuals of it, imply that if a guy buys these “hot” PJs, she will be so happy that the PJs will later be flying off of her and she will be spread eagle on the bed.

Fuck That.

If I spend serious coin on a pair of pajamas for my lady, I want her to leave them on and get my money’s worth out of them.

I want her to wear out that silky night garb to the point where her nipples have poked through the top, and the ass crack sweat has eaten away at the bottoms.

Passion is all well and good, but at what cost?

In spite of my slight cynicism about Valentine’s Day, I hope that yours is all that you’d like it to be. Have a wonderful day all, and as always…

Cheers!!