How To Have A Truly Bitter Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day sucks. There. I said it. Burn me at the stake and call me soulless (like my mom does), whine about the meaning of love and how much it will suck when I inevitably die alone. I’m over it. In fact, I’m into it. Bring on the cats and boxed wine, bitches, because I’m prematurely bitter about Valentine’s Day to an extent that may or may not inspire me to kick puppies as Sunday approaches.

I’m so dedicated to celebrating Valentine’s Day like an angry old spinster that mere ill-wishes simply won’t be able to convey the depths of my disdain. Nay, good readers, when truly dedicated to a cause, one must be more dedicated than mere lip service allows. Here’s how I plan to desecrate the day:

1. Buy this lingerie t-shirt in an XXL so I’ll get an idea of what things will look like when gravity decides to have its way with me and everything starts stretching and twisting in ways I can’t even begin to understand now. Of course, it will be paired with the most epic granny panties conceivable.
2. Drink.
3. Watch American Psycho. Technically, this is what I did last year, too. But I imagine the effect will be different without a dude there trying to distract himself from the vague concern that I am, in fact, a psycho by sticking his tongue down my throat. A girl could choke that way; I’ll be happier when it’s just me and Patrick Bateman.
4. At this point, the movie is over and I’ve repeated step two a couple times. Obviously, it’s time to remind my coupled-off friends what they’re missing while they’re spending all night alternatingly cuddling and doing hideous things to one another. Achieve this by sending out bitchy e-cards.
5. Lest I should start to seem a tad too tragic, I’ll now proceed to keep the general spirit of Valentine’s Day alive by using this heart-shaped frying pan to cook some sort of food that will go straight to my ass and possibly contribute to a future heart attack. Whatever, it’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone, right?
6. If you’ve made it to step six, congratulations on an almost unparalleled acceptance of the fact that, not only will you die alone, you’ll also become part of a grand tradition of tragic women who are half eaten by their cats before being discovered dead days later. Celebrate your membership in this small but prestigious club with some chocolate. Nothing fancy, though, you’ll want to keep it trashy with a jumbo Hershey’s bar. Bonus points if you can finish the whole thing without vomiting.

Happy Valentine’s Day!