For the first time in 365 days of the year, what you give her on that day determines how you will be treated between the 14th and her birthday. The rapist is here again.
With age comes maturity (sometimes) and just like clothes, you get to throw away and give some to those who may still see it relevant. This year, I’m dropping Valentine’s Day off my calendar. I’m not the stupid type so you would understand why I’m taking this bold step that many do not have the balls to do. To be honest, every man hates this day because it has nothing to do with them and it unfortunately the only day we pay for sex and the entire world seems to be ok with it. But hear me out as I tell you why this day does not deserve to be on the calendar, month, let alone 24 hours.
Just the other day on Christmas, you said it was your best day ever because of benefiting from my bonus. You were the happiest, at least that is what I thought. Getting sexual favours was as easy as unlocking my grandma’s phone – ‘swipe to unlock.’ You could even get it without a condom and she wouldn’t ask you money for the morning-after pill.
Seven weeks later the rapist Valentine is here and you will still be looking at me with green eyes for gifts. Nee fok, dint you just tell me that you had the day of your life seven weeks ago – so what do you want now? And why does the bloody day fall in February when we are still recovering from Janu-worry?
February is that month with the shortest days but still prematurely the longest. And as if this is not enough, it is the only month you are reminded that you are still alone, at least when it comes to spending. Things are not easy so I fail to understand why it becomes rocket science for women when we say we are broke for the day. Even government is broke so who am I not to be out of money?
It is even hard for some of us who have been blessed with a hand of willing side chicks. So my little Miss Come-and-Drop, please make peace that this is not my day. I hate it.
In the days leading to Valentine’s Day, jewelry shops make the scoring. It is a grotesque consumerist holiday designed to make people feel awful and do stupid things.
For some reason, my black sisters are told kama teddy bears are a sign of love. I’m from Okamatapati and I have never seen a bear. And should it be seen, this is a taboo in all references of witchcraft of the highest hierarchy. So why not buy her a little fluffy hippo or a carving of a kudu? These animals are lovely and strong for that matter- a good way to keep the love wild and domestic at the same time. Plus we have them in Etosha.
Roses? The rapist is not a joke because if I had the interest in the day to start with, I would do something completely different. Unlike kapana that you eat and get full, roses die so I don’t even know why they are the symbol of love. Why not something like fat cakes, morvite or buy them a braai pack to eat with her family?
Besides the unnecessary hype and pressure set on a few who never had luck on their side when it comes to getting gift provider, this day just makes people do stupid things. Don’t ask me where I got the stats from but this coming Tuesday, 15 percent of women will send themselves flowers on and brag about it on social media. The other 75 percent will just replace the battery. Kashipu.
Empty cans make the loudest noise but those with packed wallets are no different. My silence on the day does not mean I’m broke either. Sometimes I am just trying to keep a distance from what does not come out friends for both my relationships and the little hope I had in ever finding love. Just not this month please.
Personally, I show traits of love every day to my circle. Unlike you boyfriends who is gonna be all sour from today and try by all means to be sick on that day, kindly just understand that this things is not nice. You make us become lairs when we really just want to protect the little we have.
Not that I want to snitch, but everything you hear from your partner as from today that will justify his absence on Tuesday is devoid of any truth. Nobody really died in the family. Nobody gets sick until Tuesday. He is just the cleaner at work so being out of town with work is another bullsh@t. This is what the rapist pushes us to do. It is not our wish. Plus we do not get anything from you and don’t you dare mention sex because that is what any other whore on the streets can give, at any time and cost for that matter.
So guys, before it is too late, let us castrate this rapist called Valentine. Let us stop fighting for things that make no sense. You remind me of dogs that chase cars and not know what to do in an event the car stops. Alike, you just don’t know what you want in life because you chase things you wouldn’t know what to use them for once you get them. You don’t even understand V-day.
So on Valentine’s Day, I will take by pocket blue New Testament and go to a shiveva church. Who will say what? I hope they won’t have that offering-in-the-name-of-love shit.
I hate to love you.