I'm 24 years old. I have a blog. I live with my parents. From those stats, you might guess that I'd probably be alone on this Valentine's Day. If so, you would be right.
Growing up, I always thought that I was going to be married by the time I was 18, and never have to worry about who I'd spend my Valentine's Day with. This plan of mine was going accordingly throughout high school, as I was constantly pulling in girls I had no business being with, as I was a skinny dork, while they were relatively hot.
But then college happened. I gained some weight, couldn't really find a life focus, and was involved in some overly dramatic situations that killed the romantic in me. Now, as I finally want to put the pieces of my life together, my hair is starting to thin. I guess I'm not really what you call "a good catch".
Why do I bring this up? Because I've been sitting in front of my computer for the past thirty minutes trying to find an interesting topic to write about on this Saturday night. You see, instead of, you know, trying to improve my sex appeal, or perusing the local scene for a fine young woman, I am sitting here Valentine-less looking for something to blog about. And in true egotistical fashion, I have chosen to blog about... myself.
Now, here we are a few paragraphs in, and like a bad Saturday Night Live sketch there is really no logical way to end this. I can't really think of a joke, although I would like to comment about how the red and white uniforms of the Badgers and Ohio State really go well with the whole Valentine theme.
Basically, this is my awkward way of wishing all of you a Happy Valentine's Day, but more importantly a Happy Valentine's Night. Hopefully, when you wake up after a walk of shame and read this on Sunday morning, you'll realize that maybe your love life isn't so bad after all. I intend to use this posting as motivation to find Mrs. Winks sometime before Cupid strikes again next year.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need another drink.