For those of you who don’t know, I make Snarky Cards, brutally honest greeting cards. These cards are rad. They will crack you the fuck up.
Everyone always says to me: You must do so well with your Snarky Cards on Valentines Day!” and I always just give them a blank look. Valentines Day hasn’t really ever meant that much to me.
When I was in high school whether I had one boyfriend or three, I noticed that the cards I got from my friends were the ones that meant the most to me. And then I went to Ireland, when I was 20. They don’t celebrate Valentines Day in Ireland, and somehow, not having to deal with this bullshit Holiday over there reset my internal recognizing mechanism, and since then the whole Hubuloo leaves me feeling a little confused.
Adam Corolla said “You can’t get an A on Valentines Day, it’s a Pass or Fail grade.” And he’s right. Valentines Day just re-iterates what you already know. Single people feel more lonely and Couples feel more loving. Whatever your love-sitch, the day intensifies it. I hate situations that do not allow for change. So last year, I just hung out at home and waited for it to be over. To finish a long tirade, I don’t really make Valentines Day Cards, because most of my cards are kinda mean. There are lots of Valentines Day Cards for people out there who like each other, I don’t really make those kinds of cards, and I don’t really want to. And for the people who want to dump each other, or rub salt on each other’s wounds on V-Day, well, I have those available, and they’ll just have to scribble “Happy Valentines Day!” underneath I Wish You Were Cooler, or It’s Not You, It’s Me.
My shrink says that I’m depressed and I need to leave the house more. My broken leg left my isolated in my house for 3 months, and it’s been hard to force myself outside, now that I can walk, so my bar-escapades have been few and far between lately. So, this week I made an extraordinary effort to go out, and Saturday night was no different.
Except that it was. I had a good time, but it seemed like everyone else was falling apart a little bit. I went to The Triple Nickel, where I saw my friend A, who is freaking out about his job-sitch. I tried to talk him out of the fetal position he was trying to crawl into, and then I gave up, and went to The Aalto, where I ran into one of my favorite bartenders. I never see J out drinking. And I was happy to see him. Hugging ensued. “Where’s your girlfriend?” I asked. His face turned from Happy Drunk, to Miserable Crying Man in a matter of seconds. “She dumped me.” He said plaintively. “Oh, I’m sorry!” I said, thinking “Shit, this Valentines Day seems to be about men falling apart in my arms.”. He went on to explain that he still loved her. And he had been such a good boyfriend! J is one of the nicest guys ever to get me drunk. I have the utmost faith that he gives good orgasm and makes an effort to impress The Parents. “Well, it’s clear that’s she’s probably retarded.” I said soothingly. “Maybe she has Downs Syndrome?” This led to us saying “I don’t wanna go out with you anymore!” in retarded voices to each other, while hitting ourselves for five minutes. He seemed releived, that I’d finally found a reason for his predicament. I went into The Aalto, and peddled my wares, but everyone, by then, was too drunk, and the music was too loud for me to really get anywhere with it.
I saw J chatting up a cute girl as I was getting my coat. I hugged him good-bye, and he left some sloppy kisses on my neck, that I felt in my down there, and I thought “Leave, Alisa, before you become a bad sexual decision that means you can’t go back to his bar.” I skee-daddled, hoping that I hadn’t ruined his chances with said cute girl with my slutty-hugging.
I went back to the Triple Nickel, and sat next to A, and we closed down the bar. Afterwards, I walked A home, and we sat in his living room, talking about books, and feeling scared and kindness and the reason we have these crazy tattoos. Around 4am, he called me my cab, and I went home. I was so excited, I chatted away about my night to my room-mate, Libby. Who nodded and smiled and generally wished I would shut-the-fuck-up.
I do hate Valentinees Day. But Saturday night, I got to pull a few of my friends out of the depths of despair. And I feel like maybe this is a part of selling Snarky Cards that I really, really missed. Making other people feel better about the parts of their lives that they can’t control.
I didn’t make that much money. But I got to take care of some people I care about, and I got to remember that my job isn’t just about selling my art, it’s using my ability to pull people’s secrets out of them, so that I can help them feel better. Because I’ve had 12 years worth of therapy, and it seems like a waste not to teach other people all the lessons it took me so long to learn.