Page 5 of A Very Friendly Valentine's Day
New Year’s Resolutions
1. Publish at least three articles in reputable library sciences and art history journals over the course of the year.
And one onBustle, just for fun. I’ll keep submitting my article on clever lines for picking up historians until they finally accept it because “I’m writing a book on the most important dates in American history—ours will be the final chapter.” deserves an audience.
2. Host a party at my apartment.
Not a hypothetical dinner party with three famous guests of my choosing, alive or dead. An actual party. With a bunch of (hopefully not too annoying) people my own age, contemporary music played at a reasonable volume and so-called fun times. Wherein, I will not lock myself in my bedroom or sneak out and drive around until everyone has left. And I will not spend the entire party in a corner texting with Eddie. Nor will I pretend to get a call from Mom and then announce to everyone that my Great Aunt Mindy has died. Again.
3. Find some new sucker with a penis to ensnare into a meaningless relationship before Valentine’s Day.
Yes, it’s a somewhat ridiculous holiday that originated from the church’s attempt at Christianizing a fairly disgusting Roman pagan fertility festival (sacrificial goats and dogs, etc). Yes, it has been exploited and horrendously commercialized beyond all recognition since its heyday in the Victorian era—by greeting card companies and chocolate manufacturers alike. But it’s a month and a half away, and I have a feeling that by then, Eddie will have met Alana or ended things with her, and I’ll need a cock to cockblock myself with, either way. So to speak.
4. Exercise. Not more, but better. Okay, not better, but not reluctantly.
5. Go to New York, finally, on my own. Maybe see if I can meet Eddie’s brother for lunch or something.
6. Delete Eddie’s voicemail message.
Or at least stop listening to it 5000 times a day since it obviously doesn’t really mean anything. Even though it’s the best voicemail anyone has ever left me. But it didn’t mean anything. At all. I just need to stop listening.
7. Come up with at least one more flibbity flobbity resolution that isn’t somehow in response to an actor with veiny arms who has a flippin’ flappin’ stunning Instagram girlfriend he’s never even met.
