It's Valentines Day. I know that by the time you read this, it will have passed, but as of this writing, it's eleven o' clock, Eastern Standard Time, on Valentine's Day.

Did you know that the plumbing in New York City gets backed up during the super bowl's commercial breaks? Well, that's because everybody has to go to the bathroom at the same time. Right now, all across the eastern seaboard, people are getting laid all over the place. I'm three Coronas in, listening to Dr. Hook, and realizing that the path I've chosen in life is far different than that of my contemporaries. Even if you don't laugh, that's funny.

Now, now, now, I'm not pulling a sob story here, I'm actually a happy jack. Honestly, I don't even remember what sharing a Valentine's Day is like. It's been about three or four years, (I think) and I remember the one's I spent with a former girlfriend, but I have no idea what I've done each year since I've been single. It holds no significance to me whatsoever. When I woke up this morning, I looked out my window, in search of a groundhog. Damn, six more weeks of winter. You get the point.

A lot of people ask me why I've been single so long, as if I have some sort of disease.

“Oh, I'm sorry about that, they must develop a cure before too long!”

A cure for what? Happiness?

These reactions have made me wonder if there is something wrong with me, other than being a self serving, joke cracking, fart lighting prick. Well yeah, there must be something wrong with me. I'm happy. I wouldn't change a thing about me at this point in my life. Most of the girls I meet are in the Old Port or on the road, and I'm not myself when I'm in either. Normally, I'm as drunk as they are, or I'm trying to distract them so I can steal their Purple Hooter that some jackass just paid for.

I think that what I've done with myself is built a wall around me, blocking me from others, to avoid emotional contact. And I've painted these walls in some really cool colors that have kept me amused over the past few years.

Hang on a second, I gotta run to the fridge to grab another 'rona, and add another tier to this wall. I'm going to need a beanstalk to get out of this thing, once I decide to let someone in and ruin my life.

This is all partially true, but I'm laughing my ass off while I'm writing this. Have faith, I will scale this wall, but in order to do so, I need to become less amused. That's the problem though. I have no gripes about my life. Maybe there is a better one out there? We'll see. The only way is to get rid of all the cool paint on my walls. So, mystery girl, I'm on one knee and asking…………… will you be my turpentine?