Valentine’s Day: A Cynical Deconstruction

Cupid Deserves To Die!Its finally here. The Day of Love. Loads of people around the world get married on this day, conceive their first-born kid on this day, break up and commit suicide on this day. I find the last two facts more fascinating, for purely statistical reasons.

I have been known by a lot of names on this blog, and ‘Love Guru’ comes to mind first. I have been known to write extensively on the subject of love, talking constantly about my girlfriends, praising their beauty and snubbing their stupidity, proclaiming my life-long love for a few and announcing my denouncement of a few. I have given advice for single men and women on how to pick up members of their opposite sex and I have given advice on how to break up without driving the other person to kill themselves or worse, commit homicide. But this year, in glorified 2011, I have decided to change tracks and expound on the disadvantages of being in love, the utter stupidity of having a ‘Day’ to express your feelings and cynically deconstruct the notion of paradise.

I am not doing this out of spite. No. On the contrary, its taken me 27 years to understand the true nature of relationships, the flimsy, see-through negligee that people cloak their statuses with. Never have I been this clear about my thoughts and feelings. Never have I been this single.

I don’t like it one bit – the whole world waiting on one stupid day on which, eons ago, some saint was burned at the stake. There have been stories written about this day, books published, movies made and documentaries shot, and all of them talk about the same lousy thing – if you love someone, you’ll pop the question on V-day. Bullshit. If you love someone, you don’t need a “day” to do it. After all, its a fantastic excuse to get someone into bed. Apart from this, I don’t think this day has any other relevance. I pity the  poor unborn souls who get conceived each year on this day – they are either a drunken mistake, a sober mistake or a mistake of improper contraception. A mistake, nonetheless.

I hate it when people text me asking who my ‘Valentine” is. I feel like slapping the crap out of them and wishing them a happy valentine’s day. Of course, I can’t do that. Or maybe I should. Ending up in jail on assault charges seems to be the best thing to happen to someone on this day. They will be spared the nonsense that wraps the world in a dense web of stupidity, pointlessness and vague references to a vague concept called ‘Love’.

Note to Cupid: Die, asshole.

4 Minutes, 400 Steps

Being a smoker is hard work, especially these days when we can’t smoke wherever we sit and work. I envy those people born a few decades before me, who enjoyed the freedom of smoking at their desks wherever they worked. They could also smoke in restaurants, public transport vehicles, pubs, coffee shops, anywhere without the fear of being fined, fired or shot.

Today, its a whole different story. The place where I work believes in a lot of green initiatives and one surefire way of discouraging employees from smoking is to place the smoking zone in a galaxy far, far away.

Now, I’m one of those people who possess a prosperous horizontal growth, and for me to walk so far to have a smoke is just too painful. I counted the time and distance it took me to reach the smoking zone – 4 minutes and 400 steps. One way. So, add another 7 minutes for an average cigarette and we get a good 15 minutes of a work-day wasted for one smoke. The stress sometimes makes me chain another smoke, so add 7 more, and we get 22 minutes. Four cigarettes in a day makes it 60 minutes and a maximum of 67 minutes in a day. Phew. Talk about losing productivity.

Maybe this is a sign that I need to quit.