I wish I could find a tape, or a torrent, or a script, or something, for the criminally overlooked show Cupid‘s Valentine’s Day episode. The show itself was brilliant, and hardly anyone watched it. But this episode managed to verbalize something; the difference between the storybook, candy-hearts and hallmark cards valentine’s day and a true […]
I wish I could find a tape, or a torrent, or a script, or something, for the criminally overlooked show Cupid‘s Valentine’s Day episode.
The show itself was brilliant, and hardly anyone watched it.
But this episode managed to verbalize something; the difference between the storybook, candy-hearts and hallmark cards valentine’s day and a true celebration of physical, carnal love. This show captured that thought with humor and intensity.
Because the love expressed in hallmark cards is a load of crap. Another holiday based on purchased sentiment and trite, meaningless exchanges of printed paper.
Love is physical. Love is carnal. Love is sweaty, and red-faced. Love hurts. Love is about bodies and sensuality and pleasure and caring. It’s about passion and desire. It’s about fucking, and making love, and kissing, and biting.
A day that celebrates love without sexuality is meaningless and empty.
Forget St Valentine, some pointless martyr of dubious authenticity. This day, any day that claims to celebrate love, should celebrate Cupid, Eros, Aphrodite, Venus, a hundred others. It should celebrate the real love, the physical love, the outward manifestation of the gut-wrenching intensity within.
Love isn’t lacy and pretty. Love isn’t tidy and easy and neat. Love isn’t contained on a candy heart or a paper envelope.
Love bleeds. Love aches. Love is a knife, not a feather, a bruise, not a red crayon.
Love is what moves us and drives us, sustains us. What brings us together, drives us apart. People kill for love, die for love.
Celebrate this carnal, physical, real love. This day, or any other, choose your own. But chaste kisses and paper do not celebrate the love I’m talking about.
Now, with all that said, let me further note that for two weeks I’ve thought this Valentine’s was a tuesday. I of course then planned to do my shopping for pointless cards and candy hearts on monday, being that spontaneous, last-minute kind of guy. So of course, I’m late as usual.
Ah well. Better late than never. Even for vapid, pointless gestures.