So yeah, my Valentine's Day had some ups and downs, just like another day. Some of the ups included:
-Going to the free Jonathan Ames reading (he's very entertaining and charming)
-Having an interesting discussion on political correctness with random older gentleman after the reading
-Hanging out with my buddy Josh and his friends at a dinner party in the East Bay
-While there eating the best raspberry dessert pastry I think I've ever had
-Finding out it was vegan
(Not that I don't eat meat or dairy or fish--I just thought it was kind of cool to discover good things can be good for you.)
-Getting a BJ in the shadows of dumpster behind the BART station
(OK, that didn't really happen. It was just a handy.)
Anyway what I'm saying is that Valentine's Night was pretty good. Valentine's Day however was a different story.
This is what the afternoon was like:
The blue monster-looking guy represents the world. The fucking loser that he's flicking off represents me.
Let me explain with a little bit of background first. You see, gentle reader, some days--OK, most days--I’m entirely oblivious to the world, completely immersed in my thoughts. And others I’m like a human camcorder--perhaps “spy-cam” would be more appropriate. Anyways yesterday was one of the latter and on my bus ride back from my job interview at Wells-Fargo that red light was flashing the entire time. My luck that it was The Day of Romance or something and couples everywhere across the universe were eating each others' faces out--particularly the ones in San Francisco along my busride home.
The first couple consisted of a guy dressed in pants tighter than most women’s cuts and a girl who looked like a famous indie rock singer. The guy had perfectly tossled hair, a cool leather jacket, and stylish sunglasses that he kept on for the entire ride.
Needless to say, I couldn’t fucking stand him.
Maybe it’s because while I’m kind of vain, I’m also mostly honest, and he was probably better good-looking than me. Ever since some truly awful pictures leaked out onto the internet, I’ve become keenly aware of my sometimes possession of a double chin, and because of that, have become self-conscious of it. Of course, this sunglassed bastard’s jawline was disgustingly fat-free. And it didn't help that he was kissing a girl who was an obscure celebrity-lookalike. I don’t know if my envy was visible, but maybe it was because they had the audacity to look back at me looking at them.
They got off at 33rd and we arrived at our final stop, 48th Avenue, without a hitch. From there my flat is a five block walk. However, twenty steps or so into the final leg of this journey, I came upon yet another twenty-something couple, who were, as it was, making out against the door of a new red Jetta.
The way I figure it, when you walk by someone, you are within each other’s view for at least thirty seconds or so. If someone was making out when they first came into your line of sight, surely they'd stop, or at least come up for air, sometime before you passed, right?
Wrong. Not these fuckers. Thirty seconds of continuous tongues down throats.
I stared menacingly at them, hoping one of them would notice my disapproval, but they were entirely oblivious to my telepathic malice. And suddenly the whole thing made me feel so angry that I wanted to break something. I looked around for something to throw through his windshield. A rock, a brick, a small child. But of course none of the above were to be found.
I was disappointed, but in a way, not having something to throw was actually better than there having one. Had I found something I would have then been faced with a moment of decision that, of course, would have resulted in me walking on flustered, impotent, and spiteful--as opposed to walking on feeling flustered, unimpotent (potent?), and spiteful.
Potency is a valuable thing, whatever that means.