Your date starts when he picks you up in his beat-up Honda Accord, making sure that Sufjan Stevens is playing perfectly with the bass picking up some good beat. You’re excited because the two of you have plans to go to ethnic restaurant for the first time, and hopefully you’ll drink some imported tea from a country most people couldn’t locate on a map. When you get there, your conversation turns to the latest Grammy snub—how Kendrick totally deserved album of the year, and who even is Bruno Mars? As you sip your wine, commenting that you like its fruit-forward tones and stony finish, you go on to discuss Isle of Dogs and how excited you are to see another of Wes Anderson’s movies come to life. Oscar nominations are up next, and you list off how you only have two movies left to see but that you’re sure Del Toro’s next masterpiece will snag the Oscar, since duh, Pan’s Labyrinth.
After dinner, you go home and watch the Sundance Film festival's Lizzie beneath an Ai Weiwei poster, eating Oreos and sipping homemade kombucha you’ve been brewing in your rented apartment. Later in the night, you trade your copy of Being Mortal for his book Astrophysics for People in a Hurry and discuss the latest New York Times article about millennials and how wrong they are about your generation. You forget to give him your perfectly handmade portrait of the two of you in the style of Picasso’s blue period, so you create a last-minute Spotify playlist that expresses your love through Sylvan Esso instead. By the end of the night, you haven’t even covered Tom Hanks playing Mr. Rogers in the upcoming biopic of his life, or the issues of gender roles in society, or the awful state of the government, but you feel you should leave because it’s 4:00 am and you have an 8:00 am painting class with Elaine Harlow. But who cares? Is Valentine’s Day even real or validated? Of course not, you fool— Valentines is superficial and made up by our society dripping in consumerism.
After dinner, you go home and watch the Sundance Film festival's Lizzie beneath an Ai Weiwei poster, eating Oreos and sipping homemade kombucha you’ve been brewing in your rented apartment. Later in the night, you trade your copy of Being Mortal for his book Astrophysics for People in a Hurry and discuss the latest New York Times article about millennials and how wrong they are about your generation. You forget to give him your perfectly handmade portrait of the two of you in the style of Picasso’s blue period, so you create a last-minute Spotify playlist that expresses your love through Sylvan Esso instead. By the end of the night, you haven’t even covered Tom Hanks playing Mr. Rogers in the upcoming biopic of his life, or the issues of gender roles in society, or the awful state of the government, but you feel you should leave because it’s 4:00 am and you have an 8:00 am painting class with Elaine Harlow. But who cares? Is Valentine’s Day even real or validated? Of course not, you fool— Valentines is superficial and made up by our society dripping in consumerism.
Annake VandeBrake
Staff Member