Through His Eyes
A bitter poem as the worst holiday ever conceived approaches dreadfully slow.
Longsuffering does not mean suffering through long hours at work to buy you jewelry.
Longsuffering does not mean suffering through long lines with other procrastinating men to buy you flowers.
Longsuffering does not mean suffering through long years of staring at some perplexingly huge teddy bear that got me laid once.
Longsuffering does not mean suffering through long explanations about why you can’t make friends with women.
Longsuffering does not mean suffering through long lists of men’s names who you thought really loved you.
Longsuffering does not mean suffering through long years of hoping you’d get the clue that I wanted to be more than friends.
Longsuffering does not mean suffering through long periods of silence as you conclude life is as your dad said it was, not as you wanted it to be.
Longsuffering does mean suffering through long days and nights which add up to years of wondering where the hell a woman worth her salt hides and if I will even be able to recognize her.
Captain's Log 
Yes, the holiday that almost all dread except the candy companies, restaurants, and greeting card companies. It makes me pretty bitter.
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If I were you, I would say about myself, I need some chocolate and a big hug.
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Let’s start a new day: National Bowling Day. Forget food, jewlery, etc. Do something active. I might even let you win. . .
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I truly liked this, having never been a fan of Valentine’s Day – beginning with the forced providing of a valentine to everyone in my class in first grade. Yuck. I do like paper lace, though.
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I’m here baby! Just hiding in a generation ahead of you. Sorry.
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