How was your Valentine's?
Good?
Bad?
Or was it just another day?
I guess most of you know by now that I'm not one to "celebrate" such things (here's my post on Valentine's, in case you've forgotten), since they're so highly commercialised to the point of ad nauseam. What? Do I really need to buy a dozen roses to prove my love? Do I need to feed her one of my meatballs (not that kind of meatball) to show that I care for her wellbeing? Why do I need to prove anything at all when I view that every day with her as my partner is enough?
I guess I'm being my normal cantankerous self. After all, why would a guy in a relationship rant about Valentine's anyway? No, I'm a single guy who happened to spend 14th February with 3 other singletons. But it wasn't all lugubrious or laden with emo-like temper tantrums. It was FUN and quite filling, too.
The day started pretty well, dropped my family off at my aunt's place, drove to the increasingly saccharine-filled shopping centre known simply as The Curve. The sun was blazing and while I was sweating profusely, not-so-decently clad girls could be seen clutching, clinging or hanging on to dear life to their beloved. Quite a number of girls in groups (more like packs of marauding wolves) without partners could be seen as well. Cue armpit sweat stains on shirt upon face-to-face with a chick. Went to the gym, blasted out one exercise after another and finally went on to meet my friends. When everyone arrived, pandemonium broke out; no, we didn't exactly torture innocent bystanders with our wit, but our brazen ways got the better of us and we burst out laughing at basically everything, at decibels more commonly heard at rock concerts, from food not reaching the mouth (guilty party here) and to the most golden of observations:
All breasts are tender.*
That outing further proves my point that when good company with good chemistry coupled with good food (albeit bloody expensive!) are at hand, good times are a sure bet. Sure, it would've been great to have been with a significant other on Valentine's but I absolutely have no complaints about spending it with my friends.
Here's to the next outing, guys.
* = My Russian friend said this gem in the most deadpan of voices when our friend's meal of chicken breast with fancy cherries arrived. It was a massive LOL moment.
This is Chris, signing off.
PS: If you're puzzled (or slightly put-off) with the title, it goes like so: there was this rather fetching girl who kept looking at me whilst me and my friends were lining up to have our super pricey dinner. Even my friend noticed it. Turns out she was looking at me, however, it wasn't my face, but the large pimple on my chest.
Life can be so cruel.
Good?
Bad?
Or was it just another day?
I guess most of you know by now that I'm not one to "celebrate" such things (here's my post on Valentine's, in case you've forgotten), since they're so highly commercialised to the point of ad nauseam. What? Do I really need to buy a dozen roses to prove my love? Do I need to feed her one of my meatballs (not that kind of meatball) to show that I care for her wellbeing? Why do I need to prove anything at all when I view that every day with her as my partner is enough?
I guess I'm being my normal cantankerous self. After all, why would a guy in a relationship rant about Valentine's anyway? No, I'm a single guy who happened to spend 14th February with 3 other singletons. But it wasn't all lugubrious or laden with emo-like temper tantrums. It was FUN and quite filling, too.
The day started pretty well, dropped my family off at my aunt's place, drove to the increasingly saccharine-filled shopping centre known simply as The Curve. The sun was blazing and while I was sweating profusely, not-so-decently clad girls could be seen clutching, clinging or hanging on to dear life to their beloved. Quite a number of girls in groups (more like packs of marauding wolves) without partners could be seen as well. Cue armpit sweat stains on shirt upon face-to-face with a chick. Went to the gym, blasted out one exercise after another and finally went on to meet my friends. When everyone arrived, pandemonium broke out; no, we didn't exactly torture innocent bystanders with our wit, but our brazen ways got the better of us and we burst out laughing at basically everything, at decibels more commonly heard at rock concerts, from food not reaching the mouth (guilty party here) and to the most golden of observations:
All breasts are tender.*
That outing further proves my point that when good company with good chemistry coupled with good food (albeit bloody expensive!) are at hand, good times are a sure bet. Sure, it would've been great to have been with a significant other on Valentine's but I absolutely have no complaints about spending it with my friends.
Here's to the next outing, guys.
* = My Russian friend said this gem in the most deadpan of voices when our friend's meal of chicken breast with fancy cherries arrived. It was a massive LOL moment.
This is Chris, signing off.
PS: If you're puzzled (or slightly put-off) with the title, it goes like so: there was this rather fetching girl who kept looking at me whilst me and my friends were lining up to have our super pricey dinner. Even my friend noticed it. Turns out she was looking at me, however, it wasn't my face, but the large pimple on my chest.
Life can be so cruel.
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