I'm still catching up on my Valentine's Day reading. There's always a big push of oxytocin-related news stories.
Brianna Snyder's column in the Fairfield (Connecticut) Weekly recounts her attempt to use Liquid Trust to get a boyfriend. It's one of the funniest things I've read in a long time -- on any topic.
Okay, it might not be to everyone's taste. Here's a sample:
This year I happen to be single on Valentine's Day, which is a little exciting for me. I have been planning this for months.
I bought new socks, some lotion, one of those 1.5 liter bottles of wine (you know, the kind that stains your teeth) and I fanned the take-out menus around me on the floor, eagerly awaiting Feb. 14: the best excuse in the world to get miserably shit-faced, crying at Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and gorging myself on Indian (or Thai, or— fuck it —pizza. Whatever.) and passing out in my own urine, maybe vomit.
And my roommate can't get mad at me. It's Valentine's Day and Snyder doesn't have a boyfriend. "Let her sleep there, peacefully, on the floor in the bathroom," she'll say to her boyfriend who just took her to dinner and is about to get serious pay-off in the bedroom.
If you do think this is funny, read the whole piece: Why Can't I Find a Boy?