Greetings, mortal.
Ah, yes, the day of glorified mating ritual and elaborate symbolism has arrived. Saint Valentine's day has once again clawed its way out of the abyss, trailing glitter and unmet expectations behind it.
Love is in the air. The cruel twang of Cupid’s bowstring, the crinkling of chocolate wrappers shoved between the couch cushions, and the panic of a lengthy paragraph that knows it will be ill received.
Beautiful.
To those happily paired off: may your evening be filled with suffering. I hope that you sit on glass.
And to my poor, unwed lambs: you are not alone in your suffering. You have me. And also... No, that's it. You have me. And your algorithm. And so I consider it my duty to tell you that I love and cherish you with all of my blackened heart. May I just say, you are devastatingly attractive in low lighting. You, loyal follower, are worthy of love, adoration, and your very own plotline.
Will I be celebrating today?
Of course.
I will be at a candlelit table with myself and I, eating ice cream out of the tub I bought to share “with a friend.” That friend is me, of course, the only friend that I have. Our friendship is thriving, and so am I. No, really, I’m fine.
I said I’m fine.
Regardless of your luck in love, I wish you a night of it. Now go forth, my children. Seduce. Be seduced. Fall prey to the charms of rampant consumerism. And remember: you can’t get a date on any other day of the year, so the fourteenth of February isn’t anything to despair over.
Love, Locke