Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Kinky Valentine

Bonjour, l'amour! Today is the day! (I'm in rhymes)

Let's celebrate the romantic love in its purest form, let's see how the immaculate thrill of love sends us a wondrous incandescent ray from the light created in the very first day, let us let our hearts sing together in a common symphony of sweet passion. And let us eat tons of chocolate allegedly shaped as our hearts and let us give/receive millions of bouquets of flowers, every single one featuring the immortal plastic heart, which will last far longer than we do. So it shall be written, so it shall be done!

Of course, you may choose to play the black sheep and do this every day, so there will be no celebration day for you, it will be just a day. And even more, you might want to do this your way, no plastic heart in the flowers, no dubious pralines with shape the only value, but a tender smile in the morning, a hearty embrace in the afternoon, and a sweet kiss in the night - the one that makes you both relive the first one. But this is for black sheep club only.


Now, let's be serious for a moment. If we were to exaggerate this, why would we have to always do it in this soap-opera-happy-ending-sugar-honey style all the time? Why do we need to buy that kitschy plastic heart with the flowers? It's not even a true symbol, it all depends on how you look at it, literally speaking. For many of us it's just a very beautiful, sexy, appetising, you name it, ass of a woman. Only in the reversed position, but that's details. And if this is what it is, why wouldn't we exaggerate on that side? Why would we not celebrate the complete different one, the kinky Valentine? How would that be? How many of us will celebrate that? How many of us will go and buy presents for our lover?

This would be so much fun, I'd love to be a sales man in one of those shops that sell thematic presents for such a day. I bet that men will come and buy stuff galore, no matter if they have a date or not. It's in our jeans, pun intended. A dialogue would be so smooth, close to a soliloquy:

"May I help you, sir?", would go the sales person and that would be pretty much everything they'll have to say in the matter.

"Hi, I've come to buy some presents for the Valentine's day. Soooo, let me have a look. Wow, I must have these three gimpy masks, they are so sexy. Or shall I take four?  As for the lingerie, please give me a dozen per colour, you're always short of that, you know. OMG, is this a double dildo? Must have it, thanks, you're such a great shop. Two whips, please, and five pairs of hand cuffs. This will do, yes, thank you very much, see you next time".

It doesn't matter that you chuck them in the dust bin at home, you must buy those things and never be shy about that. Because you're a man. On the other hand, if you're a woman, there's a totally different scenario:

"Hello madam,  how may I help you?"

"Oh, ah, oh, what shop is this? I thought it was a sports store, but ...".

"Not quite so, madam, we specialise in kinky Valentine's presents"

"Oh, ah, oh, I do not celebrate that, sorry. In fact, I find it repulsive and I could not possibly adhere to the idea of enjoying such a thing"

"Very well, madam, as you wish, there's no problem, you'll find the sports store 5 km further. In this area we are the only store though, sorry that you had to drive so far for nothing".

"Noooow that you're saying, and I am here anyway, by utter mistake of course, I do have a very good friend of mine who'd be interested in celebrating this... kinky Valentine. She's too shy though to come down here and I'm thinking ... maybe I can have a look ... and buy something for her, you know ...."

It's funny how the roles are changed in this situation. The man buys like a woman would normally do, lots of things that "you never know when you need them", whereas the woman buys what she wants and needs. But in the end, it doesn't matter, it's about joy and happiness.

And if I may add something here, forget about the stupid plastic heart and celebrate love whenever it shows to you. Whether it's overdosingly sweet, kinky, or black-sheepy, it's merely details. As long as it make you live like there's no tomorrow.








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