![]() Nothing says “I love you” like a $120 porterhouse for two. You go here because everything you’ve ever been told, from childhood to the moment you get seated, is that dimly lit big steakhouses with modern decor are fancy/classy/luxurious.įor anyone who ate at one of these archetypal steakhouses, you know that they’re almost always over-priced and over-hyped, but they represent a level of intent that is designed to elicit feelings of appreciation and care from your companion. It’s the type of place that belongs in a casino, but not in a good way. Liberty Prime is a steakhouse, though could be confused for a Tulsa based insurance company, Purple Rain B-side, or the Statue of Liberty’s real Transformer name. I should note that this was not last week, but in the not-too-distant past where I didn’t have a cunty little platform like Nice Things. To that end, I want to share an experience I had at Liberty Prime. In the words of Jersey City, make it yours. Society, from alt-right homophobes who want you to deny your right to love, and the social justice warriors who want to wag their snooty fucking finger in your face because you’re not loving correctly, can kiss your entire asshole. Love is something you make on your own terms and reconcile with the person you love. Use this opportunity to reach out to someone you’re interested in with candy. You can be single too, love yourself and others. The desire to buy big heart shaped boxes of candy and posting grand proclamations of love in a highly visible way is a flaw in ourselves, but can be endearing and meaningful in small doses. Valentine’s Day sets aside a time for us to grossly display love, which should probably be the exception, not the norm. Patrick’s Day for people to be publicly terrible and throw up on the streets, we should have a safe space to be terribly public with our love. So, for me, this entire holiday always revolved around consuming food that I didn’t have to fucking make, which is an official nice thing. When I was younger, me my mom and my sister would usually go out to dinner or order something, as I got older that time was filled with friends,dates or significant others. Why is this relevant to my blog? Well, on most Valentine’s Days I’m going out to eat with people I love. If there is a disconnect between you two it is likely symptomatic, because if I’ve learned anything from erectile dysfunction ads (other than old people only fuck in tubs) its that small things are often a sign of a larger problem. But none of that matters because it’s really only about what it means to you and your partner. Do they all have more than a grain of truth to them? Absolutely. ![]() Are all of the criticisms I’ve linked above true? No. I mean, it’s not fucking Thanksgiving, but its not this evil symbol of oppression that a lot make it out to be. Hot take: Valentine’s Day isn’t terrible. If you’re in a relationship you’re set into an awkward dance with your significant other to present something meaningful without going overboard or giving too few fucks. If you’re single, there seem to be endless lines of semi-condolences sent your way and a reason for you and your friends to get together and shit on love as a construct. This becomes even more unappealing when the mantra is clearly that this is not a “real” holiday. It’s a reason for you to spend cash when you don’t really want to spend your hard earned cash. I understand how this holiday is unappealing. My main takeaway from this chatter is that everyone hates Valentine’s Day, unless you’re getting something, in which case Valentine’s Day is an integral component of the dick measuring (clit measuring? Is that a thing?) between you and your co-workers. If there is one thing I’ve had force-fucked into my cerebellum on social media, its that Valentine’s Day is still a manufactured holiday designed to promote societies archaic notions of heteronormativity, and makes god very angry. For those lucky enough to not spend $50 on flowers, l ast week two weeks ago was Valentine’s Day.
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