The title is not a misprint.
There is a vile side to Valentine’s Day, my friends – a slimy sequence of events that occur during a day that was created to honor love and affection. It turns out that not everyone has noble intentions for Cupid’s favorite holiday. There are those who go on the prowl in search of easy prey, with the sole intent of violating the purity of this sacred Hallmark holiday.
Here’s how I discovered this sordid truth:
I was at the park waiting for a woman named Ebony to bring me Girl Scout cookies. I had been hustling her unsold overflow to co-workers and friends, keeping the change that they said they didn’t need for myself. Toll money; you know. It’s not because I’m a thief.
Anyway, I got an unexpected call from my younger brother, Reckless Weasel. Something must have been wrong. He never calls. Then I remembered it was three months had passed since his last call and that this conversation was therefore right on schedule.
“You been smokin’? You sound kinda chill.”
“Nah, nah. I’m looking for a new job so I’m laying off weed for a bit. Gotta keep the system clean.”
“Huh? What? No! I told you I shut down the factory two years ago!”
(Now insert several jokes about damaged assembly lines, empty packages and trucks with no cargo here.)
“Did you get a call from your cousin? SHE might be having a baby, if she’s not lying. You know how she likes to play jokes.”
“Uhhh. I see. Uhhhh…”
Our cousin Maame had named Reckless the godfather of her first born son 2 years ago in an apparent effort to divert a portion of his smoking funds towards her son’s care. She doesn’t approve of recreational drug use. We’ve tried to point out the medicinal value of weed on several occasions to no avail. The joke was on her though. Reckless Weasel is the worst godfather ever. He’s never bought his godson anything. Like, ever.
“So when’s the ‘due date’?” he chortled.
“It’s supposed to be in 7 months,” I replied. “But that’s not even the kicker. She and Kojo don’t know when the baby was conceived.”
“No it’s not. They barely ever have sex. In fact, she can’t remember the last time they did it.”
“What?? And they live in the same house?”
“Yeah man. I asked her if maybe it was on Valentine’s Day, but she said it wasn’t. She was too tired after work.”
“Awww man. That’s awful! A man should always be able to have sex on Valentine’s Day. Why, that’s one of the best days for guys to get laid. Especially for single guys. I know for a FACT that I’m gonna get some on Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh that’s so gross.”
“No for real. That’s when women with questionable morals and low self-esteem are out in force!”
“Saa? And what does a woman with low self-esteem look like?”
“Oh come on, Malaka. You have friends with low self-esteem. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
“No, really. I don’t.”
“*Siiiighhh* You know…that chick who just tries too hard. The one who dresses and acts like Beyonce, but is actually a back-up dancer. You only have to spend a few minutes talking to her to figure it out. That’s the hardest part. Talking to all these girls until you unearth the one with low self-esteem. She’s always the one complaining about something. Her hair, her car, the fact that she doesn’t have a car, some guy…”
“And these are the ones guys look for?”
“Yup! She usually has fewer standards. Low self-esteem is key if you want to get some for free on Valentine’s Day…or any other day for that matter.”
(Suddenly, images of my little brother in a foggy back alley with some painted girl in a dirty blond wig flooded my mind. I was horrorstruck. Why was my brilliant brother humping bleached women of ill repute in some dirty brick enclosure?!)
“Oh, come on man!” he objected. “I got more self-worth than that! I don’t know what’s been in an alley…but I DO know what’s been in the back seat of my car.”
“Like cigar wrappers and old Johnny Guitar Watson eight tracks?”
“Exactly. You can take a girl with low self-esteem to the back seat of your car. She’ll have no complaints. Them other chicks be wanting to come over to your house or go to a nice hotel n’ sh*t. That’s why I don’t fool with them.”
(I pause for a long moment.)
“You’re going to write a blog about this, aren’t you?” Reckless Weasel predicted.
“Yes. Yes I am.”
“I can hear the wheels turning.”
(Insert 4 or more jokes about locomotives, the Industrial Revolution and rusty hand brakes here.)
“A’ight dude. I’ll talk to you in about 4 more months, nnnkay?”
There is no moral to this story.
Happy Friday to you, one and all.