Below are excerpts from my diary, written around this time last year.
February 13, 2010
Dear Diary,
I'm going out with some friends tonight to celebrate Valentine's Day. Or, as I like to call it, Singles Awareness Day. I have a feeling that tonight is going to be the beginning of something wonderful! Tomorrow I'm going to wake up refreshed and recharged. I just have this feeling that tonight I'm going to meet the love of my life and come tomorrow, we'll awake in each other's arms upon the break of day with words of love emerging from our lips. Oh, Diary, I'm so excited! I'll write back tomorrow and tell you all about it.
Hugs & Kisses,
Ashley
February 14, 2010
Dear Diary,
So yeah, things didn't really go as planned last night. So now I've decided to give you a little play-by-play of my actual Valentine's Day.
11:16 a.m.
Beers: 0
Shots: 0
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 0 mins
Woke up with Wendy's Cheeseburger Deluxe wrapper stuck to cheek from previous night's drunk 3 a.m. munchies. Eyes hit with a harsh ray of sunlight peeking through curtains. Thought about getting up, then realized it's Valentine's Day and I'm still single. Go back to bed.
12:07 p.m.
Beers: 0
Shots: 0
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 45 mins
Finally forced myself out of bed. In an attempt to sober up, decided to take a bath. The only noise in my apartment is the echoing of the guy above me's television. Had a good cry to the sounds of a Law & Order repeat until the bath water ran cold, much like my sex life.
12:58 p.m.
Beers: 1
Shots: 0
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 0 mins
Need food, but the only edible things in my kitchen are a box of Cap'n Crunch, a 40 of Miller Lite and stale Saltine crackers. I feel much like how I imagine most families felt during the Great Depression. Must decide how to ration food. I think I'll use half of the 40 for the cereal. Will save the other half to dip the crackers into for dinner.
1:23 p.m.
Beers: 0
Shots: 3
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 15 mins
Discovered a rogue bottle of generic brand vodka in refrigerator crisper. Took several shots while listening to R.E.M.'s "Everybody Hurts" on repeat while writing the phrase, "No one will ever love you," over and over again in diary. It's like Michael Stipe is singing the lyrics of my soul.
1:42 p.m.
Beer: 0
Shots: 2 ½ (I accidentally spilled half a shot on my crotch)
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 0 mins
Figure crotch is wet already, might as well masturbate. I think I'll try out my newly discovered masturbation method called The Stranger, which consists of sitting on hand until it's numb and then pleasuring myself. Or, as I like to call it, playing the clitar. I figure this will make the fact that I'm masturbating alone on Valentine's Day after inadvertently soaking my vagina in enough liquor that it wouldn't pass a field sobriety test a little less pathetic.
Wrong.
Sat on hand too long. It's starting to turn a weird shade of purple. I better masturbate the usual way, only right as I'm about to orgasm, say "I love you" out loud and pretend it's Christian Bale saying it to me.
2:11 p.m.
Beer: 0
Shots: 0
Cigarettes: 2
Time Spent Crying: 20 mins
After a sufficiently long enough session, I went outside for some post-coital cigarettes. Saw a young couple walk past my building, holding hands and smiling. After flicking lit cigarette at couple, hid behind bush while wiping away the hot, bitter tears of emptiness running down my cheeks.
2:37 p.m.
Beer: 0
Shots: 1
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 0 mins
Back inside. Took another shot to rid my mouth of the taste of loneliness and regret. Tripped over a dirty pair of underwear lying in the middle of my living room floor.
5:04 p.m.
Beer: 1
Shots: 0
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 0 mins
Woke up several hours later with carpet fibers imprinted on side of face. Decided to cheer myself up by looking at old pictures of ex-boyfriends and drawing big X's through their faces with black Sharpie, while eating dinner of Saltines and drinking remaining 40 of Miller Lite.
6:42 p.m.
Beer: 0
Shots: 0
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 0 mins
Still don't feel any better after defiling old pictures of exes. Decide to masturbate again. Rationalized that masturbation must be some form of exercise, so ate an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream purchased at the gas station down the street. Ignored the judgmental stares from the cashier as I paid completely in spare change.
7:27 p.m.
Beer: 0
Shots: 2
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: 0
In a moment of nostalgia, broke out photos from childhood. Looked at the face of my younger self and thought, You poor unsuspecting, naïve bastard.
8:53 p.m.
Beer: 0
Shots: 1
Cigarettes: 2
Time Spent Crying: 0 mins
Watch The Notebook. Think about the fact that this story would never happen in real life because men don't actually love women so much as they love sticking their penis in any willing vagina and/or warm, wet, open hole.
10:31 p.m.
Beer: 0
Shots: 0
Cigarettes: 0
Time Spent Crying: However long it took before I fell asleep.
Dignity: Long gone.
Can't decide if going to bed this early on Valentine's Day is pathetic or not. Decided I don't really care. I will now spoon with my pillow and pretend it's the love of a good man. Next year will be different.
Tears & Beers,
Ashley
Rather than write a new entry for this year's Valentine's Day, I'm just going to Xerox this one and paste it into my 2011 diary.