Woman on the Ledge: Woman on the Ledge vs. Cupid

It’s that annoying time of year again, everyone. You know when we are constantly being bombarded with ads smacking us in the face with romance. Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day! I can almost hear the collective groaning now. Well, I feel your pain.

Since I have always been one to speak my mind, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Whenever people are disgruntled, they always demand to speak to the CEO, the President, you know, the guy or gal in charge. That is exactly what I am going to do. I have dealt with this “holiday” for most of my life and now I’m going to write a letter to El Jefe, the man with a thousand arrows, Cupid. Believe me, I have a list of complaints and he’s just going to have to listen.

Dear Cupid,

You know why I am sending you this letter. Listen, I get it. You have been around for ages. At one time, you were the biggest star in the world. Maybe even bigger than the jolly guy from up north. Well, maybe not bigger than him. You’re in competition. There are so many other holidays out there jockeying for attention. So, you think that you have to have a media presence in every outlet known to humans. I am here to tell you, it really isn’t necessary.

Look, in July, we’re getting hammered with ads about Christmas. That’s right! It’s 90 bazillion degrees out, the humidity is the surface temperature of the sun and we are seeing winter coats in stores and holiday decorations (I’m looking at you, Target). We are no sooner getting over that whole hot mess which lasts about five months and then December 26^th, it is all hearts and candy crap.

Why is it that you feel that every man needs to spend at least 6 months salary on a ring for his girlfriend or wife? Who was the mathematical genius that came up with that equation? Truth be told, why would I even want a ring that size? I’m not a Kardashian, or Amal Clooney for that matter. My idea of a good time is not wearing a $20,000 ring the size of a small country on my finger because I will only end up punching myself in the eye in the middle of the night. Plus, it will just succeed in making me look like I am wearing a ring pop which is so chic.

Furthermore, I don’t need flowers either. Every time I log onto my computer I hold you responsible Cupid for slowing down my internet. Why do I need pop up ads telling me about exotic roses from Spain or Swarovski crystal encrusted vases? I don’t need that kind of clutter in my house. Knowing me, I would probably end up dropping that expensive vase succeeding in breaking it and in the process ruining my hardwood floors because of the water.

I don’t live in a museum with priceless antiquities. I live in a house in the middle of the suburbs. My life is not an episode of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. This is reality. Love is not having to call the ambulance because you cut yourself picking up a priceless crystal artifact. Trust me.

While we’re at it, let’s have a discussion about lingerie. When I am watching television, I don’t want a thousand ads from AdoreMe.com with these incredibly annoying teen dreams telling me about this awesome bustier and panty set their boyfriend or husband picked out for them. Really? “Oh, yes, honey. I love you so much that I am gifting you with this corset from 1852. I dig the way it makes you look like a pirate wench.”

What woman doesn’t want to look like a reject from a Pirates of the Caribbean movie? Not me. Then these same chicks are telling me about this “super cute teddy” that they purchased. Hmm. This puts me in the mind of a really bad 1960’s movie where the girls are being chased by an old, creepy guy in a turtleneck or a Rob Zombie flick. Either way, if my significant other gifted me with this ensemble I would probably say, “You do know who you are with, right?” Yes, to quote Hall & Oates, “I can’t go for that. No can do.”

Last but not least, let’s talk about those candy hearts. Look, they have been around since the beginning of time and I really don’t think there is anyone that likes the taste of them. Those sayings are ridiculous like “Be Mine, Valentine” or “Call Me.” If I get a heart that says, “Let’s Get Busy” on it (yes, it’s for real) I am probably going to respond with “It’s my day off” or “I’m in the middle of something.” That is definitely not romantic.

They just sound like cheesy pickup lines that I am going to hear at 2 a.m. from that sort of attractive guy at the bar that I really can’t see because I have had too many shots of Cuervo type deal. Who has time for any of that? Plus, I want statistics on how many relationships are the direct result of these little missives from the devil’s kitchen.

In closing, can I just say, let us determine how we want to celebrate this holiday. We have the right. Don’t make us feel bad either if we choose not to get our significant other gifts. Shouldn’t we be showing our partners we love them throughout the year and not only on one specific day?

I’ve done my part. Now it is a waiting game. With my luck, just for spite, he will probably shoot me in the butt with one of those arrows….