Sweet Jeebuz, this is the funniest thing I've read all day. If you live under a rock, or just aren't a blog junkie like I am, then you might not be familiar with the fabulous Richard of Gawker. I swear to you, half the reason I watch Gossip Girl is to read Richard's rehashes on Tuesday. They are about a billion times better than the show itself, not that GG isn't amazing in its own right. Anyway, here is Richard on Valentine's Day:
Valentine's Day is approaching, and that's bad news for singles in New York. Restaurants are all crowded and mostly expensive prix fixe menus and there are kissing jerks everywhere. So what should singletons do?
I can dispense some advice. For some reason people seem to find my corrective shoe and wandering glass eye unappealing, so I don't have a proper romantic date for Saturday evening. Here are some things I'm thinking about doing instead.
Go To The Movies Full of lovebirds, yes, but it could still be fun. You could go see He's Just Not That Into You or whatever hipsters find romantic and snicker or groan loudly at every part that's supposed to be cute or funny or sweet. Then shush people if they start kissing or murmurming sweet nothings in each other's ears. And eat loudly. (At the Kip's Bay theater on 2nd Avenue, you can get a bucket of mini corndogs. Just sayin'.) That will firmly announce your status as single and not ready to mingle. Or you could go see the mostly unromantic I've Loved You So Long with Kristen Scott Thomas. It's about a plain Frenchwoman who kills her kid. Yep.
Walk the Streets In the most cliched way, you can have a love affair with New York City. Walk up 2nd Avenue and marvel at all the places there are to drink alone. Wander through the West Village and appreciate all the places you can buy toys for the sex you aren't having. You could head up to the Upper West Side or come over my way to Park Slope and stare strangely at all the babies, knowing in a sad corner of your soul that the only way you're ever going to get one for yourself is through baby thievery so you should probably get on that. Maybe you could cross the park (or the river) and stroll the Upper East Side, mistily eying the old Jewish couples that have been together for so very long and oh doesn't love endure and dying alone isn't that scary, as long as your cat Bloomers is buried with you, like you're an Egyptian king. Or you could take the ferry over to Staten Island, see all the glum families toiling in stretched-means, semi-suburban obscurity and feel just a little bit smug that you're free. You could go to Paris tomorrow if you wanted! Who's gonna stop you? No I know, but other than crippling debt?
Take Yourself Out to Dinner Yeah those prix fixes are expensive, but it's Valentine's Day. You know you're going to get lucky with yourself later on, so you might as well buy a girl (or guy) dinner first. Sit at the bar, order lots of wine, and splurge. It will be horribly embarrassing and the waitstaff will look at you strangely and whisper about you in a way that they think you can't hear but maybe don't really care if you can. But it won't matter because you'll be shitfaced and stuffing your craw with delicious meats and cheeses and cackling to yourself like a lunatic. After some time has passed, press your greasy wine-stained face close to the cute bartender, flutter your eyelashes, and say seductively "Next I'll have the chocolate exploding cake." Then fart and fall off your stool and sleep, sweet viking. Sleep.
Friend n' Fried This is actually what I'm doing. Go to a friend's house (or have them come over) and order the food that is probably responsible for you not having a date in the first place. If you live in the area, I suggest ordering from Odessa on Avenue A. Nothing says 'abject misery' quite like a mostly-eaten pile of grilled cheese and waffle fry from that particular diner. While eating these fried delights, you should probably be drinking (of course), smoking (if you're still into it), and watching something like the unheralded masterpiece Sahara or Alien vs. Predator: Requiem. This sounds a bit trite, I know—Fat Kids Fried Drunk Camp for Lonely Fatties!—but the real joy of it is that 1) you're not spending much money, and 2) when you talk to your coupled friends about their intricate, important V-Day celebrations that kind of went awry because just so much was hinged on it, you can just shrug your shoulders and say "Huh. Hey, did you know that there's a Civil War ship full of gold buried somewhere in the Sahara Desert?" They'll totally be jealous.
So, that's that. Shine on, dateless wonders. And if you do have a date, you're a jerk and I hate you and oh god how do you do it I'm so jealous and lonely and I think my heart is atrophying.