Annual "Corey is a Bigger Bitch Than Usual" Day

As Valentine's Day fast approaches, I have to wonder how this Hallmark holiday came to be. It could be just that: A Hallmark holiday in order to sell cards after Christmas and before Easter. But part of me believes its origins to be more sinister. Our society today ultimately aims to become situated in a high-paying job and then get married before becoming old and crusty.

But who the hell had the authority (and balls) to assign February 14th as such a hateful holiday for single people? Technically, this holiday celebrates Saint Valentine, which leads me to believe that the religious right is out to get me (more so than usual). I can get legally married in this state, you mother fuckers!

Dating sucks, anyway. Sure, I love the butterflies I get when I meet someone and I really like them. But the whole process is so asinine. Especially for people my age. Some call the teenage years the awkward ones. I'm twenty years old, and this age is even more awkward. This is that age where us early twenty-somethings are ALMOST adults, but we're still working part-time jobs and making zero money, finishing our education and growing into the people we're meant to be. Or, like many of my high school classmates, living at home, pregnant and smoking weed. Can't wait for the reunion!

I went out on a first date a while ago. He asked me out for coffee in Boston. I thought about the offer and could only think of a stand-up bit Chelsea Handler once performed:
"Who decided coffee was a date? We can't get a meal anymore, ladies! What is a FRAPPUCCINO gonna lead to? A piggyback ride?"

Sadly, that about summed up the date. I accepted the offer and we went to Starbucks, where he spent a whole three dollars on my venti caramel apple spice with no whipped cream. The conversation was okay, but he just didn't make me laugh or think. That switch just didn't go off.

He then suggested we walk around the city, somehow dragging me to RAPE ALLEY; a.k.a. a scary side street where I thought I saw a drug deal occurring. Finally, we ended up in Government Center, when he saw the 24 hour Kinko's and decided he needed to send a fax. He sensed my horror that he even suggested this and tried to recover. "Uh, I don't have to send that fax NOW..."

I answered, holding back my exasperation as much as possible (which, if you know me, you know I have trouble doing), "No, no... I'm all for efficiency. I mean, we're here anyway..."

He opened the door for me and held it. So romantic.

Upon entering, the huge black lady with the word "SUPERVISOR" on her name tag behind the counter snapped at her employee, "YO! TYRONE! FEED THE PRINTAH! IT'S HUNNNNGRY!"

I stared, unable to believe this was actually happening to me. The supervisor turned back to us and asked frustratedly, "Can ah heeeeelp you?

"I just need to fax this," my date said, handing over the document and fax number. He then went to the bathroom and left me alone with the Kinko's staff. I was afraid they might shoot me or eat me, but they kept to themselves.

The supervisor wrapped a scarf around her head and addressed Tyrone. "Tyrone! Look! This is what them Muslim peoples wear! You know, them Jihad peoples?"

We eventually left Kinko's, when my date said, "I better go... Are you around next week? We could get dinner."

Luckily, I had plans to be away the next weekend. I never got a call after that.

People tell me I should be single and happy, rather than taken and miserable. To them, I say: "Suck it." I'm gonna have my cake and eat it, too (Please, no fat jokes).