The (Fucking) Reason for the (Fucking) Season.

Alright, darlings. Everyone is going to make a big deal about tomorrow, so let's just get all Real Talk about it for a second.

I will use this photo at every opportunity. I fucking love it. If anyone knows where it originally came from, I would love to know.

I am not one of those anti-Valentine's Day, anti-greeting-card, anti-fabricated romance jerks. I love Valentine's Day. I love greeting cards (especially when Rye's the one writing them). I even love myself a little on-the-nose romance. I mean, Rye brought home a bottle of champagne the other day for no reason and I almost passed out. I just think that when it comes to Valentine's Day, people keep telling you how to do it wrong. So let's talk about what we think the right way is.

Traditional Valentine's Day stuff: flowers, chocolate, heart-shaped doilies, expensive dinners at nice restaurants. Look, I will start working on your boners very soon, but the fact of the matter is, this is a holiday that commemorates the religious martyrdom of saints. This lovey-dovey stuff? That is Chaucer's fault, y'all. And I will tell you right now, not a lot was sexy about 1382.

Somehow we got from there to here. And really, that's fine. We live in a world that could use a lot more romance between a lot more people. I guess we just start to get bristly when people tell us when we should be romantic with each other. And, I start to get all who-do-you-think-you-are when people tell other people how to be romantic.

Look. Romance is not jewelry for everyone. Romance is not champagne for everyone. For some of us, romance doesn't cost a thing (I swear that I will not quote J-Lo here). For some of us, romance is probably a cheeseburger and multiple orgasms. Make no mistake, this holiday is about fucking.

Don't you just think it's a lot of pressure? You have to dress nicely, eat nicely, behave nicely, give great gifts, write great cards, enjoy each other's company like you've never enjoyed it before and then still have the energy to fuck when you get home?

I say, skip the crowded restaurant and frustrating-to-get reservations. I say, make each other's favorite things for dinner and then eat it naked! I say, skip rose petals on the bed and spend some time figuring out exactly how she wants her clit licked. I say, forget getting your hair or nails done, ask him if he wants to try a new orifice! Drink a hot cup of tea and blow each other! It is February, after all.

And for that matter, don't wait for the one day a year where every other asshole is doing all this shit. Buy flowers another day. Take him to dinner on another Tuesday. Give her a greeting card for no reason. We only get one go at this, you guys, we should be making each other happy and surprising each other all the time. Not just on National Drunk Mating day.

Phew. Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I think I'll probably go get something else put on it, if you catch my drift.

Enjoy each other, guys. You know we sure do.