Valentines Day Bummer by Avery Monsen & Jory John

It’s February in San Francisco and it seems like everybody has somebody. The sun came out yesterday for the first time in weeks and love-struck assholes from every walk of life flooded the streets. There was kissing in the on the sidewalks. There was hand-holding in the corner store. There was what looked coitus in the park. Yuck. Public coitus is the absolute worst.

“Public coitus is the absolute worst,” I said to no one in particular, although “no one” included everyone in the 10-items-or-less line at Safeway. “Hallmark must be responsible for this.”

I kept walking. Things were turning ugly. Heavy petting, heavier petting, heaviest petting. Everywhere I looked, cheese-balls were asking other cheese-balls for their cheesy hand in marriage.

“You complete me,” some jerk said, to some she-jerk.

“You had me at ‘hello,’” some tool said, to some she-tool.

But I don’t think I’m alone, here. I can’t be. There must be other people out there who are sick of this Valentine’s fever. People who have a hunch — like I do — that those little “Be Mine” candy hearts are actually just chalk. People that know that flowers die and chocolate will just make you fat. We’re the Lonely Majority (coined!), and we’re not going to take it anymore.