The other day was Valentine's Day, and let me tell you guys, I had a lovely day. I got roses the night before, which GPOM thoughtfully trimmed and arranged for me. (All the varying jobs he's had over the years come in handy around the house, and working for a florist means my cut flowers last longer than your cut flowers.) The next day I got a sentimental (well, for him) card and a black-pearl-and-diamond necklace. I love it. It's perfect, and I wear it every day despite it having the tiniest clasp I've ever seen. We broke open a bottle of Prosecco and toasted and generally enjoyed being around each other.
But earlier that day, I saw a post on my Facebook timeline that mentioned that maybe we lovers should be more sensitive to the feelings of those who lost someone, or is single, or is currently separated from their loved one. It was a gentle reminder, and I understood the sentiment. But because I am me, my reaction was
FUCK THAT.
If you'd like to be sensitive to every single person's feelings on any given day, good fuckin' luck with that. There are approximately two hundred "friends" on my Facebook. You think I can protect all of them? You think I care to? Sheesh, for most of those people I'm a strange memory from junior high, or that girl in college who could actually roll a spliff without making a mess.
So, in the interest of not having my feelings hurt, I'd like to politely request that from here on out you don't share with me your glorious news of pregnancy, including sonograms, pictures of the wee widdle one fresh out of the oven, obvious remarks about the HAHA moments of parenthood, or even oblique references to babies, toddlers, or children under the age of ten. I want a child badly and it doesn't seem to be in the cards. So all you parents out there, unless your kid's acting like a pure horse's ass, you'll have to keep precious inside.
Because it hurts my feelings.
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