Two Bits

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, a holiday of Christian origin. While Easter and Christmas mark important dates in the life of Jesus Christ, Valentine’s Day celebrates the day Saint Valentine bought his first Playboy. I celebrated Valentine’s day in my traditional manner, in which I buy a large heart-shaped box of chocolates, then search for the saddest, loneliest girl I can find on campus. Then I sit down next to her and slowly eat chocolate in front of her while exclaiming how great it is to be in a relationship.

Some people despise Valentine’s Day. The holiday is banned by the religious police in Saudi Arabia, which is a pretty good idea; but then again, these are the people that blame rape victims for being alone with a man in the first place, so I’m not sure we should be following their lead. Instead, I propose that today, Feb. 15, should be declared a new holiday: End-It Day.

Nationwide, people should gather together with their loathed significant others and dump them. This will leave more singles on the market for the dateless losers that couldn’t hook up during Valentine’s Day and will provide a day for people to finally gather up enough courage to break up the terrible relationships they’re in.

My first breakup occurred in seventh grade. Her name was Tiffany, and everyday she wore a necklace with letter beads that spelled out “Lance” because Lance Bass was her favorite ‘N Sync member.

After three grueling days and receiving the 50th banal note from her before math class, I had to end it. I did the manly seventh-grade thing and told my best friend Nick to break up with her for me. Unfortunately, Nick chickened out, and it wasn’t until a week later that Tiffany finally found out. Furious that she was the last person in the entire school to discover I had dumped her, Tiffany passed around a revenge note claiming I practiced kissing on my dog. Last I heard of Tiffany, she was working as a stripper in Detroit, while I am currently entertaining several lucrative offers from engineering consultant firms. It also turns out that Lance Bass, Tiffany’s big schoolgirl crush, is totally gay.

I’m sure many of you have similar horror stories. This is why we need a national End-It Day. No worrying about finding the right time and place to breakup, or even coming up with what to say. On Feb. 15, you simply give her a Hallmark Card that says “Roses are red, violets are blue; now that I’ve dumped you, you probably are too.”

Ideally, you’d never be in a relationship in the first place. Humans should be more like the topi antelope. According to a BBC news article, “The topi antelope come together once a year for just over a month to mate.” Dr. Bro-Jorgensen was quoted in the same article saying, “It is not uncommon to see males collapsing with exhaustion as the demands of the females get too much for them.” I know what animal I want to be when I get reincarnated.

While I think the Nobel Peace Prize should be given to the man who came up with the concept of a one night stand, I support those of you that choose to marry. If you find that special person that you want to stick to you for the rest of your life like a barnacle on a rusty ship hull, then go for it. But if you want to avoid the divorce papers next February 15th, avoid the common Valentine’s day mistake of a fancy proposal. Do not take her to an expensive restaurant, give her flowers and show her a big fat engagement ring. Women can’t give serious consideration to a proposal when they’re drunk off champagne and distracted by a shiny diamond. This is why the divorce rate is so high; people get caught up in the moment and marry when they shouldn’t.

All proposals should be done at McDonald’s drive-thrus. A woman who says yes to a marriage proposal over a Big Mac is a woman who will stay with you for the rest of your life. (I regret ever telling this to my girlfriend because now she hyperventilates whenever we go out for double cheeseburgers.)

For those looking for inspiration this End-It Day, consider how successful I’ve become at dumping women. I relish the breakup. The breakup is when I get to tell a girl all her faults.

I enjoy it so much that I’ll date someone I scorn just to have the joy of dumping them.

Once I took a girlfriend out to play paintball. She made the classic rookie mistake and used all her ammo up early, so when I finally met her defenseless on the field I told her that not even the camouflage shirt she was wearing could hide her fat rolls, and that it was time to start seeing other people. Then I shot her in the fat.

A good breakup requires creativity. To get rid of one girl, I brought her to a Chinese restaurant and at the end of dinner gave her a personally made fortune cookie that said “today your boyfriend is dumping you, your lucky number is 1, because you are now single.”

Sometimes, there are circumstances that prevent you from dumping someone in person. For instance, my current girlfriend has a black belt in jujitsu and carries bear mace. Now, in the true spirit of End-It Day, this is for you, Shannon: it’s over.

I can no longer date a woman that can bench press more than me or has a jawline as masculine as Superman’s. I expect you to return my Soulja Boy CD, you damn she-beast. Now, you might be a little upset with me right now, but please consider that this shouldn’t come as a complete surprise.

If you feel like physically hurting someone right now, mace Nick —he was supposed to dump you for me this morning in Econ.