>>> Casual Misanthropy
By staff writer JD Rebello
February 14, 2004

Well, it's Valentine's Day, which means a rush of Hallmark cards, teddy bears, candies, flowers, and for me and my single friends: razor blades and band-aids. Remember, guys, long sleeves cover the scars AND keep you warm in chilly February. Brrrr.

I can't even believe this holiday. Here's a holiday designed to make single people feel bad about themselves. I mean, that's the whole point, isn't it? People in relationships get to eat at nice restaurants, get kickass gifts, and make sweet, passionate love by the fire, and I will be spending V-Day downing Jack Daniels by the bushel and carefully trying to aim the .45 in my mouth so I don't miss my brain.

There are lots of single folk out there who'll be spending Saturday either writing poetry or bawling during Sleepless in Seattle. Who is the sick programming fuck who decides to play that movie on this holiday? Everyone watching TV is single, do we really need to see Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan cheese it up on cable? What do you want, TBS? My blood?

So this column, here, is for the single people. You couples go enjoy your undercooked steak, terminally-ill, nastily-overpriced flowers and botchulism-infested chocolates—and always remember, only 8% of college relationships last past graduation. Ok, I just made that up, but take a look around. You're all doomed. Good.

The Seven Levels of Single

“There are lots of single folk out there who'll be spending Saturday writing poetry.”

1. The Pathetic
Some people are just born to be single. You know the type. You meet them, and you just KNOW. I get this sometimes. People who barely know me, and don't know my situation, will just bust out gems like: “That's why it's cool that guys like us are single,” and “Ehh who needs women, we sure don't!”

2. The Third Wheel
This kills me. I swear, I am the eternal third wheel, or fifth wheel, or seventh wheel, or in one extraordinary case, the 103rd wheel. Listen, couples, if you want to keep the piece with your single friends, don't subject them to this, here are the three options to help save your single friend some sanity:

A. One of you stays home. (Yes you can be apart for one night. I know this sounds crazy, but you won't die.) A clarification of this rule, if the single person is a guy, then the girl in the relationship stays home. Guy's night out is cool, night out with guy friend's girl is an episode of “Undressed” waiting to happen. What the hell happened to that show anyway?

B. Just don't invite the single guy. Seriously, rejection is better than the scourge of the third wheel.

C. If you must deal with this situation, NO PDA! No kissing, hugging, holding hands, little couple in-jokes, or Heimlich maneuver. I realize she's choking, the ambulance will be here soon. Please don't make things uncomfortable for me.

3. The Personal Ad
Wow, even I haven't stooped this low. Let's face it, if you got some personal ad online or on a phone service or the “Anything Goes” section of the Boston Metro, you might want to down those Percosets with a shot of Jager, because you're just not cut out for this society.

4. The Who-Gives-A-Shit-if-I'm-Single,-I-know-I'm-Single
I really envy these people, who could give a rat's ass that the opposite sex is virtually predisposed against them. These are the people who appreciate the finer things in life, like Madden 2004 owner mode, Bill Simmons, and the comic stylings of Dave Attell. Of course, these are the people who get laid all the time, probably because they don't care. I guess I have no point. Let's just move on.

5. The Teetering Out of the Closet Single
Speaks for itself.**

6. The Way Too Ugly, Gotta Be Single
A lady walks up to the cashier at the supermarket, she lays out her items on the conveyor belt: pizza for one, soup for one, single serve ice cream. The cashier asks: “Are you single?” The lady replies: “How could you tell?” The cashier says: “Cause you're fucking ugly!” I love that joke. Can't tell if you're ugly? If your dog humps you with his eyes closed, time for a tit job.

7. The Single Person Who's Fucking Clueless
I had a friend in high school—let's call him Raging Dickhead—he was single all four years, and yet, every girl I knew wanted him so badly they'd give up their firstborn for a chance to re-enact the Paris Hilton sex tape. She already bought night vision goggles! This pisses me off to this day. How do you not know?! Girls like to pretend they are subtle creatures, but it's pretty obvious to tell their motivations. And a girl who gives you a blow job with her eyes everytime she passes you on the street means something.

In conclusion, it's Valentine's Day and I'm alone. This holiday isn't fair. Don't we live in an equal opportunity country here? As a result, I am starting St. Justin's Day for the single (I know I know, I'm not a saint—yet). This day will be held on my birthday, August 16, and is a day for all single people to celebrate their, umm singletude. It is a day of heavy drinking, self-pleasure, and crying during that scene in “Love, Actually” where Liam Neeson's son finally tells the girl of his dreams how he feels at the airport. Just me? Let's move on…

** People apparently aren't too fond of me using gay jokes in my column, dubbing me a homophobe. I am NOT, nor have I ever been, homophobic. I'm not scared of flamers, I just don't like them. I don't like American Idol either, but I'm not flipping past FOX in a fit of terror. Now, stop writing letters!

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