The most I do for Valentine’s Day is remind others that it’s Valentine’s Day. I don’t do romantic stuff anymore. I have no one to do it for or with and don’t hold out much hope that I ever will again. As I wrote two years ago, fat, shy recluses (hermits? hermitesses? hermiti?) are unlikely to encounter romantic encounters.
But that’s okay. As I also mentioned back then, it was my dad who, after marrying for the second time at age 86 and less than a year after my mom died, declared, “Love is a disease.” Mom probably would have said, “Too soon old, too late smart.”
Anyway, if you have a significant other, do something special for him or her before this day is out.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
8 thoughts on “Love is a disease”
As an “urban hermit” with a high degree of social anxiety, my chances aren’t looking so good either. But I’ll always be a romantic at heart. Happy Valentine’s Day PT! 😀
You too, Mak. Happy Valentine’s Day! 😀
Alone again. Naturally…
In the same leaky boat. Just another in a long line of days that fuel my suicidal ideation.
On a more amusing note: almost used the image you posted as an avatar this morning on FB heh.
LOL. When it comes to cupid, it’s my favorite image.
Love the picture, Pied! (Pun intended.)
No matter your corporeal husk at this late stage, I admire your mind and your senses of honesty and, yes, humor. Happy Valentin’s Day, Susan.
Aw, thanks, Jim. You too. Hope you and your wife have a lovely evening planned.
Yeah, an incurable one at that. It’s better than that other disease, hate. But all this Valentine crap is pure commercialism. And yeah, I bought my wife a rose. It was only five bucks.
A rose is a rose. Small price to pay for tranquility at home.