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 food and fine wine.
Later in the day, some men may even do the same thing for their wife or girlfriend.
What does said male unit get for his trouble and generosity?
That’s right…Heartache.
Love is cruel.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am not completely against one’s love taking on the form of some type of 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 Nazis attempt 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 d'Amour!!
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 pajamas for myladies lady, I want her to leave them on and allow me to 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 myextreme loathing slight cynicism about Valentine’s Day, I hope that yours is all that you’d like it to be.
Then again, you can do what I did this year...You can give up Valentine's Day for Lent.
Cheers…
Matt-Man
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
And...If you missed IWS Radio LIVE yesterday, you catch Jay and I bashing the SOTU, Marco Rubio, the Pope, and all things Lent, by listening to the archives right c'here:
A day when men purchase overpriced roses, perhaps a shiny bauble or two, and then take their loved one out for food and fine wine.Later in the day, some men may even do the same thing for their wife or girlfriend.
What does said male unit get for his trouble and generosity?
That’s right…Heartache.
Love is cruel.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am not completely against one’s love taking on the form of some type of 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 Nazis attempt 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 d'Amour!!
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 pajamas for my
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
Then again, you can do what I did this year...You can give up Valentine's Day for Lent.
Cheers…
Matt-Man
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
And...If you missed IWS Radio LIVE yesterday, you catch Jay and I bashing the SOTU, Marco Rubio, the Pope, and all things Lent, by listening to the archives right c'here:
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