The United States consumes 80 million Hershey's Kisses every day, and on Valentine's day that number jumps to over 280 million?well over one for every man, woman, child, and spider monkey in the U.S. More amazing is the fact that this number doesn't even come close to the at least one billion hearts?whether chalky, chocolate-coated or caramel-filled?that are consumed on that same day.
I am not the Surgeon General and cannot speak on matters of public health; I am, however, a certified Doctor of Love, and I can speak without worry of malpractice upon matters of Valentine's Day. What I say is this: I can think of no better image for the day than over a billion hearts being torn out of their wrappers, chewed and swallowed, their remains sucked out from between teeth or picked out with dingy fingernails, only to be digested and transformed into excrement left as an afterthought in a public toilet?a toilet without paper and in need of another flush.
In short, and in keeping with the theme of food consumption, Valentine's Day is the day we celebrate just how much it sucks to be peanut butter without any jelly.
Valentine's Day is actually the third in the series of the Big Three Sex Holidays. The first is Super Bowl Sunday, when the entire nation gathers around big screen TVs to watch the nation's best tight ends adorned in spandex as they fight over a leather toy. The second is Fat Tuesday, in which hordes of non-religious party-goers shake off their weekend hangover for a Tuesday night of drinking, dancing, and lovemaking to remember, even though they won't. Valentine's Day sits after these two quite naturally: on Super Bowl Sunday you see?either during play or during the halftime show?what you will never have, Fat Tuesday you have what you never wanted, and Valentine's Day you want to have, but do not.
For the sake of saving everyone some pain, let the Doctor remind you of what not to do this Valentine's weekend.
Do not drown your sorrows in conversation hearts that say "ur cute"?ur not, and you'll be even less so when bloated from chalk and sickening "word vomit." Do not wander around parties like a love puppy who has lost his master. At no point in the evening should you find yourself attempting the one-armed lean on a girl resting against a beer-soaked wall in a social house. She's not hot?you're just drunk. Avoid the single/ugly, even if you are they.
If you have a honey, or a shorty, or a tall and not-so-sweet who occasionally spends the night, do not shower him/her with chocolate roses, teddy bears, roses, or chocolate teddy bears. When you look into your significant other's eyes, remember that he/she is going to die, most likely before you, leaving you in debt, pregnant, and without your favorite sweatshirt.
You might have a boyfriend. You might have a girlfriend. You might have eleven sisters, a spider monkey, and a sixth finger. You are still alone. Boyfriends disappear, nobody trusts sisters, and spider monkeys, while they can consume many kisses in one sitting, smell bad and die. An eleventh finger merely allows you one more way to count to one.
What this Doctor of Love prescribes is the intake of fluids, a screening of Kill Bill Vol. 1, and the removal of your eleventh finger. I'll allow kisses since we both know you're talking about chocolate. Don't get your hopes or your heart rate up, and absolutely no one-armed leans.