Valentine's Day is the worst holiday ever. Ever. That abomination of President's Day where two holidays were formed into one isn't even as bad as the ole' V-Day.
A lot of people are going to say because it's so commercialized, and because it's a Hallmark holiday, and those are good reasons to hate this disgrace on our calenders. But the real reason why Valentine's Day stinks is because it's a holiday where no one is ever happy.
Think about it: when's the last time you had a good Valentine's Day? If you're single, you hate it because you're lonely and you have no one to spend the holiday with. If you have a girlfriend and you're a guy, then you have to go out and buy her something like flowers ($70 for a dozen roses) or candies or jewelery. And you better make it good, because EVERYONE ELSE is getting something, too, and you'll be judged. Most girls have a pyramid structure where the one girl gets something great and everyone has to have a gift as good as that one. So...singles are lonely, men waste cash on products that could be dead in a week, and women are upset deep-down because their material item didn't match the love that they feel they deserve.
Recently I was in the bathroom in my school building here at BU and I realized that I have a fear and hatred for urinals. Everyone knows what one of those are, but for those who are not familiar, it is a urinary receptical placed on a wall for easy access peeing for males. I walked in and looked to the right at the row of five urinals, with one guy on the far left. I immediately turned and went into the stall and peed...only after the guy left. I was lamenting the fact that I can't pee at a urinal like everyone else, and then I recalled my past with urinals.
I was first introduced to one in first grade during elementary school. I had to go to the bathroom, but I couldn't go in our class room (looking back, how weird, yet convenient, is a toilet in your classroom? Imagine if you had the shits...how embarassing would that be? I'm happy that phenomenon ended in the second grade). I had never encountered a urinal before, and was confused by the mechanics of it. This one had a drain in the ground, and the porcelain behemoth both confused and horrified me. A boy was using it properly all the way to the left, and once he left, I decided to give it a try.
Usually when I was home, I'd pull down both my pants and underwear and pee into the toilet bowl. I do clearly remember being very confused as to why every pair of Underroos had a hole right in the middle of them. Thinking that it was just impractical stitchwork, I continued to urinate as per normal. I stood in front of the urinal, pulled down both my pants and my underwear, and went to town. Strangely, I felt relieved, like a big boy. Then someone walked into the room, saw my bear ass, and ran away to tell on me. Embarassed, I quickly pulled up my pants and ran away.
I went home later and confronted my mom about what the front flap was in my underpants. She informed me that when you're peeing, you put your penis through there. I didn't believe her at first, but after a try I learned proper urinal etiquette. A few years later I walked in to the same bathroom as a seasoned veteran (5th grade) and saw some young boy doing the same thing I did. I patted him on the back (bare ass) and said, "you'll learn, boy." Then we shared a lovely conversation over tea.
Ok I made everything up from the ass hit downwards.
When I was in 4th grade I attended my first hockey game and learned a whole new bathroom culture: one involving drunk older men. No, I wasn't raped. There were guys who were standing like 8"-10" back from the urinal itself and urinating. This creates two problems that left irreparable damage on my young, fragile mind. First, I was splashed with piss from a strange man, and because of my size, the rebound spray hit me in the chest. Terrible, terrible, terrible. Secondly, I was on eye-line with old man penis. There is nothing more freightning, and as a child, it is ridiculously large. So now I was feeling both insufficiently manish as well as degraded.
Now that I'm older I have run into new problems. I sometimes cannot pee with others around, especially if we're side by side pissing in a urinal. Last year in the dorms, they had these weird, old school models that protruded from the wall and left a part that actually ended underneath your crotch, showing your member to the world. I refused to use them, except for one time where I was peeing and a drunk dude came to my left and I literally froze, zipped up, and quickly exited. I'm almost a grown man, people.
Another fun development is that with my unusual height and leg length, I sometimes don't fit in urinals. Giants Stadium has unsually low urinals and a shelf a little higher above the tops of them that stretches across the wall and across all of the stalls. My crotch is ABOVE the top of the urinal, and it's impossible for me to hug into the urinal to not show my goods to others as the shelf is stabbing me in the chest. This leaves me no other option then to wait by the stall like a wierdo. I'm that guy. Again.
Finally, I would like to relate to you all a story that occurred at last night's Beanpot final. For those who don't know, there is a Boston tradition where the first two Mondays in February in whatever arena is up (the Boston Garden, then the Fleet Center, now the TD Banknorth Garden) there is a 4-team hockey tourney involving the four local Boston schools: Harvard, BC, Northeastern and BU. Last night, nationally ranked #5 BU faced off against #4 BC, two teams with what one Sports Illustrated writer described to be the best rivalry in all of sports. All sorts of ridiculous (BU won btw).
The way the fans of each school are split up is that the top level is split between the four schools, with BC and BU on opposite sides across the ice. Well, there was a kid next to me in the jammed upper section who had on a deep red pleather coat with a furry hood and a white t-shirt with a red-marker-scribbled "BU" inscribed on it, surrounded by a red diamond looking thing. The kid was either on coke or was drunk or both, as he would start his own chants like "HE'S A PUSSY! HE'S A PUSSY!" when a BC player got hurt and "BC SUCKS! BC SUCKS!" for seemingly no reason. The fucker creeped me out.
Eventually, he says mutters something along the lines of "I'm going to fuck with the BC fans" and leaves. The second period ends, he's gone, and I'm a happy guy. On the ice the two mascots start to bring in a table with solo cops glued on - our mascots are going to play beer pong. Fucking YES! All of a sudden, some dude jumps down from 10 rows above the concrete entrance for the mascots on the side of the arena and starts trying to rip the BC Eagle mascot's head off. Our section saw the kid's coat and immediately knew it was Fucked Up Guy. Security pummelled the hell out of him and he left in handcuffs, headless.
The final total? BU's Terrior Rhett won 4-1 in Beirut and the kid was released after the game. Ah, the Beanpot.