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with my dick hanging out in a closet at
     some strange coke den in Chelsea. And collecting the cumulative experiences into one well-rounded observation, I conclude
     that Valentine’s Day seems to be a bit cruel if not entirely unnecessary. Not the idea itself but the idea put into practice.
     When you add up the numbers, the odds are very, very good that
most
people will feel some degree of shitty on February 14. And knowing that Valentine’s Day means hundreds of millions of dollars
     for the greeting card, florist, restaurant, condom, porn, and eating-an-entire-bag-of-Dorito’s-in-one-sitting industries doesn’t
     make it feel any less shitty. Valentine’s Day is only enjoyable if you’re in a solid, good relationship, which applies to
     how many of us? Twenty-five percent, maybe? Maybe. For everyone else, it sucks (idrink forareason.com/valentines ). It’s a constant reminder (starting with whatever lead time the aforementioned businesses decide is needed for a “killer
     V-Day,” blowing the previous sales record out of the water. High five, Stevens! Your idea to make chocolate-covered roses
     with butter-toffee-flavored condoms for thorns—brilliant!) of how miserable you are even though two weeks ago you didn’t seem
     really all that miserable or preoccupied. You didn’t really think about it that much. But now! Loser!!! At best, Valentine’s
     Day is a nice opportunity to take time out of your tiring and unadventurous schedule to appreciate your partner. So what if
     it’s obligatory? You still get a nice meal, get to remember what you love about each other, and fuck. Unfortunately for the
     most of us, there is a much greater chance of it being an awkward night teetering on the cusp of derailment with merely the
     twitter of a butterfly’s fart. Perhaps you have just had a huge fight over something trivial that got blown way out of proportion
     and turned into something else altogether? * Are you on your third date, so you don’t know how much gravity to assign this Valentine’s Day date? Ignore it? Bring her
     a card? Bring a card and flowers? What? Thinking of breaking up? Just received your mail-order bride who doesn’t understand
     your crazy American custom and won’t leave the train station? Were you just caught masturbating by your partner? Just discover
     you have breast cancer? I could go on and on.
    And here’s the ultimate aggravation: not one of the happy couples around actually need Valentine’s Day either. It’s always
     Valentine’s Day for them. It’d be like having a nationally recognized Celebrate Your Perfect Health Day. We’d all have to
     spend the day watching a bunch of content, fit people flaunting themselves in front of the rest of us. People with limps,
     coughs, acne, glasses, crutches, and/or wheelchairs. That’s what every smiling, laughing, squeezing, kissing couple is on
     Valentine’s Day. Unwittingly adding a teaspoon of bitter stomach acid to be drizzled over your heart like so much Malbec reduction
     sauce over your prix fixe duck confit. Everyone knows this, too. It’s not like it’s some mystery. It seems that the only people
     who really benefit from this day of forced love are those Casanova con artists from Italy or France who come to America and
     take a bunch of frumpy housewives and widows for all their worth, or frumpy housewives in long-ago loveless marriages who
     subsist on reduced-fat cookies and delusion. Oh, and the makers of Stetson cologne for men and lastminuteflowersforfuckups.com . My point is that it’s more hurtful than helpful.
    Although I suppose it is nice to celebrate. And there’s no better way to celebrate something than fucking. And there’s no
     better way to celebrate the fact that you’re fucking than coming. So, all in all, I guess it’s better than Flag Day.
PRESIDENTS’ DAY
    Wha… ? Are you serious? Go fuck yourself. Presidents’ Day. Please.
HALLOWEEN
    Halloween is probably my least favorite of holidays. The