Stephanie: Know what your problem is, Shapiro? It’s that you just have this really shitty way of looking at things, ya know? I don’t have that problem. I just look at the dopeness. But you, it’s like you just look at the wackness, ya know?

Luke Shapiro: I do?

Stephanie: All you have to do is look at me. And kiss me.

“ I was very invested in love, but it was just this long long sex thing that could end at any moment because after all, it’s just about getting off. Almost all the time, you tell yourself you’re loving somebody when you’re just using them. This only looks like love.”

I don’t understand the phenomenon that is Valentine’s Day. I mean, I would be willing to guess that 98% of the population doesn’t know that it actually started as a sacrifice where Roman men would skin a goat, dip it in sacrificial blood, and then go smack women with the bloody strips so that they would become more fertile. The remaining 2% are the people who have no lives and spend their time at home googling irrelevant holidays, or were in the office today and heard me going on about it.

The best Valentine’s day I ever had was when I was in London, and my roommate and I went to Soho, had dinner at a pub, followed by session of DDR in some sketchy arcade. The evening finished by a walk though the seedy sex shop district, where we found the best bakery on that side of the city. It was perfect. Last year a girlfriend and I got each other a rose, because her boyfriend couldn’t be bothered and I was single. I do believe that at some point my mother has also sent me flowers.

I think that for the most part, however, that Valentines Day is an excuse to buy your significant other a trinket that they will most likely never look at again. Either that, or the guy will go to a big load of trouble to cook or spend a lot of money on dinner, and then their girlfriend will not be able to complain about putting out with a good conscience that night.

Tomorrow night I plan on going out with a bunch of girlfriends and dancing our faces off. I don’t need a frilly little card to let me know someone gives a shit about me. The people I love are the ones who have seen me at my very worst. They waited to say “I told you he was a jackass,” until at least two weeks after my flings went sour, have had my mascara smudged on their sleeve, and have put me into the shower and into my bed when I was incapable of performing those actions for myself.

In sure tomorrow a lot of you will be getting more chocolate than you know what to do with, a nice bottle of wine, or will be trying out the 62 sex tips in this months Cosmo. For whatever you get up to, here’s my V-day playlist.

Enjoy.

1. Crazy For You – Adele
2. El Estuche – Aterciopelados
3. 32 Ways To Make You Smile – Backseat Goodbye
4. You Remind Me Of Home – Ben Gibbard
5. Sexual Healing – Ben Harper
6. Bruises – Chairlift
7. The Girl – City and Colour
8. Til Kingdom Come – Coldplay
9. Colourblind – Counting Crows
10. I Will Follow You Into The Dark – Death Cab For Cutie
11. You Please Me – Dragonette
12. In Comparison To You – Farryl Purkiss
13. My Moon My Man – Feist
14. You Picked Me – A Fine Frenzy
15. Call Me Irresponsible – Frank Sinatra
16. I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked – Ida Maria
17. I’m Yours – Jason Mraz
18. The Best View – Jill Barber
19. Night Drive – Jimmy Eat World
20. Heartbeats – Jose Gonzalez
21. Honey and the Moon – Joseph Arthur
22. Me Enamora – Juanes
23. Angels – Makeshift Innocence
24. Laid – Matt Nathanson
25. Turn Me On – Norah Jones
26. Last Request – Paolo Nutini
27. Such Great Heights – The Postal Service
28. Fidelity – Regina Spektor
29. I Will Never Love You More – Soko
30. Tonight – Stars
31. To Be Alone With You – Sufjan Stevens
32. Nineteen – Tegan and Sara
33. Take It Off – Tender Forever
34. The Kiss – Tristan Prettyman

Here’s a song that I picked up that I have been listening to on repeat since last night.

Blood Bank – Bon Iver

Enjoy.

Guy 1: So who would you do?

Guy 2: As in who would I ram? Is this a multiple choice question?

Guy 1: Good idea; Kristen, Carly, Jordan, Alex, or Audrey?

Guy 2: All of them…probably Kristen.

Guy 1: Ok, but let’s be realistic.

Guy 2: What the fuck do you mean by that?

Guy 1: The last time you even approached Kristen, she refused to let you side beside her on the couch.

Guy 2: That’s true. But I heard Jordan has something, and Carly and Audrey are seeing someone.

Guy 1: I guess Alex is the lucky girl.

I was talking to a friend of mine a few nights ago, looking for some insight into the male psyche.

I had a problem, a problem that had been driving me nuts for an exceptionally long time.

Our conversation went something along these lines:

Me: Why is it the second you stop giving a guy the time of day, get over him, and get your shit together and move on, that he decides it is the opportune moment to start paying attention to you again? It’s the ultimate mindfuck.

Guy Friend: I have a way to explain this, I call it “Branch Theory.”

Me: Branch Theory? 

Guy Friend: Let’s say there is a monkey, and this monkey is holding onto a branch. He is trying to swing onto another branch, but is to scared to let go of the one he is holding onto until he is sure that he will be able to grab onto the other branch without falling. He doesn’t want either branch to fall out of his possible reach.

Me: Fair enough, but let’s say that this monkey is a sociopath, devoid of any emotional sentiment, and isn’t sure why he grabbed onto the branch in the first place, and really isn’t inclined to swing to another branch at any point in the near future. Then what?

Guy Friend: Uh…

Me: That’s when I hope the monkey falls to the jungle floor.

So I’m sitting in the Loft, minding my own business, ready to slam my head against the desk as I translate an essay on recursive theory into english, and I overhear a conversation:

Apparently there is a course on pornography at the Uni. You sit, watch a segment of porn and then discuss it after.

I would totally take it.

Just thought I would share.

I intimidate people. It’s a fact.

It’s not like I set out to either, I actually consider myself to be a pretty approachable person. That said, one of my really good friends confessed that he thought I was “bad news” when he met me. I’m the kind of girl that talks politics and religion within a few hours of meeting a someone.

Apparently this is a big social no-no.

This got me thinking to myself, maybe I shouldn’t be so open about my thoughts and opinions. Perhaps being so frank about sex gives people the wrong impression, maybe I talk too much, or what if I come across as a complete and utter bitch?

I had a momentary panic attack,

But then I thought: If I didn’t talk about porn, about how slow moving people make me want to punch them in the back of the head, or continue on one of my many rants and tirades, I wouldn’t be who I am.

I am mouthy, I am sarcastic, and I am honest. I’d like to think that this adds a little interest to the world around me and the people who surround me.

My bark is worse than my bite, I really am a squishy little marshmallow on the inside.

Are boyfriends just guys who didn’t make the friendship cut? 

I have some great friends who I would never consider dating, mostly because it would be 23.25/10 on the weirdness scale. Would you consider making out with your brother or sister? I didn’t think so.

If you said yes to that question, incest is not legal in this country.

I was talking to a friend about the subject this evening (the boyfriend question, not making out with siblings you pervert.) I said that I have an easier time just having a fling with someone rather than settling in for something for the long term. It isn’t that I don’t want a relationship, it’s that I always view them with an expiry date. I’m young, I travel, I party. I know my lifestyle isn’t exactly conductive to finding a prospective boyfriend. Occasionally, I come across a guy who isn’t insecure, has something to say, and has a level of spontaneity comparable to my own and wouldn’t have a problem with their girlfriend cavorting around the globe, and would in all likelihood, join me in the debaucheries that would ensue.

So, what’s the problem?

Well, this is where we take a little detour down friendship lane. I become so close, that I wouldn’t want to waste a relationship on them. Call me a pessimist, I don’t care. University relationships simply do not last, and those that do end up driving minivans and banging the secretary once they grow apart from each other with age. I’m good friends with all of my exes, but there is always that period of time after the breakup in which you would like to do nothing more than hurt them just as much as they hurt you, and hope that the next girl they’re with gives them the clap. Of course, given a few more weeks, hopefully both of the people involved can act like mature adults and play nice.

In most cases, however, the relationship is permanently changed. You can never be “just friends” again after sleeping with someone. There will always be some sort of lingering tension, sexual or otherwise. So sure, you can tell your good male friends about the guy you are shacking up with, but you’ll never cross that line with them, unless you want to fuck a good thing up.

This leads me to the conclusion that perhaps I date losers not due to the fact that I have a preference for “bad boys” (ugh, I hate that term), but because when I have something good going for me, I don’t want to wreck it.

This will require more pondering.

So, the travel bug has bitten me hard. Once again, I will shove all of my worldly belongings into a bag slightly bigger than what I take with me to the gym. I will be living with strangers, some of which will have sex in the bunk above me, others will walk around in the nude at one in the afternoon and speak with such thick accents, that I have no clue what the hell they are trying to say. I will eat strange food, some good, some bad, but in any case, memorable. I will drink too much, swear off alcohol, and proceed to get drunk off of my face the next day. I will have flings, most likely an Australian. I will butcher the Spanish language, but people will understand what I am saying. I will have something stolen/lose something important, it will make a good story later. I will go off the beaten track; fuck museums and churches. I will get on the wrong train, and end up in the middle of the countryside, with no clue where I am. I will dance until the wee hours of the morning. I will see friends I haven’t seen in months, and make new ones. I will cry, I will laugh, I will swear, curse, and scream at every imaginable deity. I will have the time of my life.