Oh look, it's VD

We’ve only just shaken off the post-Christmas/New Year blues and it’s suddenly time to celebrate the worst non-holiday that insists on projectile vomming all over our annual calendar like anyone who caught that horrendous bout of gastro that swept through Joburg last month.

Valentine’s Day, like the ‘Super Group’ McBusted, shouldn’t really be a thing – but it is. And we can simply accept that this is the type of world we live in or we can snatch it from the grip of filthy corporations. Say “poo” to icky love songs, chocolates with gross red goo in them, and anything that includes a stuffed animal and hearts, and celebrate VD like a cunt.

Wear granny panties

Look here, Victoria Secret, La Senza and all your pals. I don’t need to be trussed up like a baby hooker to get down. I have a vagina and that makes me sexy as all hell. And my vagina is a lot cheaper than that stretch of lace that’s gonna creep into my crack every five seconds. In fact the Notorious V.A.G is free. (Well, actually if we’re going to take a squizz at the actual cost of periods and pap smears etc then we’ll see that the ol’ penis fly trap is a tad pricey, but let’s not do that today.) So, I’m gonna wear the knicks that sag at the bottom and still get laid.

I’m not too sure what the man equivalent of granny panties is – perhaps those gross satin (it was never silk, babes) boxers with the Tasmanian Devil on them? Well, whatever it is let’s slip those bad boys off and get it on.

Eat Ribs

Ribs are fucking delicious so begin and end your evening with a bone (wink, wink). Clutch them in your grubby paws and gnaw your way through all that meaty goodness. Get sauce on your face; get it in your hair. Smile at your loved one with gristle between your teeth and then pick it out at the table. Vegetarians should try some sort of sloppy spaghetti and hope it dribbles down your chin. Slurp that slippery pasta so fast that it flicks up to leave a dab of juice on the nose. Because do you know what’s sexier than going to some over-priced restaurant and eating something fancy like you’re someone fancy? Being you. So make like Rose in that scene in Titanic when she shows poor people that rich, posh girls are far more hardcore than working-class men and get cheap and dirty. (Whatever you say, James Cameron…)

Stay Home

Just like Mother’s Day, on February 14^th every one of the restaurants you like is booked up. Except your mama brought you into this world so she actually deserves to be taken out for sups on Sunday, 10 May 2015 (put it in your calendars this second). Don’t settle for over-booked mediocrity! Because romance is definitely not your elbow brushing against that of the desperate couple at the table next to you, all squeezed in like battery hens. Live an organic love-life and sit on your couch at home. Sooooo much space to stretch out – aaaaah, yeah.

Buy Nothing

I’m no love Grinch, but being an educated lady-person who experiences an encyclopaedic array of complex thoughts and emotions, I can assure you that my language of love is not fairly represented by shit cards and wilting flowers. Also I’m a grown-ass woman so my teddy bear quota was filled when Mama Sluis convinced my father to buy me George Monkey when I was a wee bairn. So, howabout we boycott Woolies and just say those three stupid words instead? Actually do you know what does say “I love you” best? Waiting until the 15^th and buying all the choccies at 50% off. Swoon.

So let’s celebrate love with our middle-fingers thrust forward and our legs unshaved. Romance is real yo, and it doesn’t get more real than that.