Galentine’s Day

Oh, Valentine’s Day. That one day of the year where we flatter our lover in gifts that represent how much we love them in a dollar amount. From cheaply made, giant Teddy Bears that convenience stores sell for outrageous prices (when they were probably made overseas for 10% of that price), to boxes of chocolates that advertise the joy of having a hundred chocolate covered marshmallows, when in reality you’re actually purchasing a heart shaped, plastic-cardboard box with an aWeSoMe surprise: 5 chocolates!!!! Wow! What a deal!

As much as I adore my man, I believe that celebrating one another’s love throughout the year is much more meaningful than dumping love on each other for one day of the year (unless those other 364 days you really do loathe each other, then this really is your holiday [also in that case, you may want to reevaluate your situation; I mean come on, everyday is love yourself day]).

So let’s be honest.

If Valentines Day is a national holiday, then where’s Galentine’s Day?

Yes, you heard me, Galentine’s Day.

If you haven’t heard of Galentine’s Day:


It’s essentially Valentine’s Day, but instead of celebrating your lover, you celebrate the friends that have stood by your side when you got your heart broken by all those other lame, silly faces who lost out (and we know they lost out because you’re our friend and you’re magical and great).

Your gals. Your ladies. Your sistas. (Men, to note, you are not excluded from Galentine’s Day activities. Despite the fact that it is called in flawless fashion, Gal-entine’s, your masculinity isn’t that fragile that you can’t spend it with your buds, your dudes, your bros; you just have to let your girl go out for a night of great food and casual drinks with her ladies).

Any who. I petition for Galentine’s Day to be a national holiday. Friendships should be celebrated in just as much flare as Valentine’s Day, with all of the chocolate, booze, and wild antics, if not more (probably more. definitely more.).

So let your freak flag fly (but not too much, because you still need to be able to stomach the romantic dinner your man is setting up for you the next evening, and then you can really let the freak flag fly [unless you’re single, then girl, please, let all the freak fly. you deserve this].

xoxo, next round is on me,




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