Essay: V for I

There is an app for everything. So how come there’s no rent-a-lover one? Not the tacky (okay, occasionally joyfully pleasant) hook-up-and-ghosting ones, but the ones that allow you a bit more than a foray into the dimly lit world of unnecessary one night stands, uncomfortable 4am looks and walks of shame of a lifetime (where did you say the bus stop where?!). I’m talking proper romance-on-demand app that will bring a (wo)man of your dreams right at your doorsteps at the break of dawn (okay, make it 10am) on a Valentine’s day with a fresh set of charm, grace and ability to turn on the dirty talk switch when necessary (10.07am sharp). Because, you know, the struggle IS real.

Chances are you’ll only really know what I’m talking about if you belong to the same exclusive club of the prideful singles who in no way are eager to become, erm, album tracks. It’s EPs over LPs all the way, my fellow MVPs. You know who I’m talking about. People who get their dose of drama while watching B-graded TV shows instead of dealing with people who belong on B-graded TV shows (or worse – acting like ones). The ones who have a very messy but very theirs drawers. People who dread waking up in the morning and seeing somebody else’s rumpled face, because, let’s face it, nobody’s face should be seen in the morning (that’s why my mirror is placed as far from my room as possible which probably explains frequent wardrobe “adventures”). Basically, the people who love living on their own and only stress about not having a partner maybe two or three times a day. Which pretty much beats stressing about having a partner all day long, if you ask me.

It’s all fun, games and drunken attempts of catching a big fish instead of an old boot on the Tinderlake, until the holiday season kicks in. Winter holidays are more or less bearable, because it’s always nice to see your relatives doing much worse job at adult life than you while making the importance of Planned Parenthood exquisitely transparent. But then comes the V day and the Cupid-curated hell breaks loose. There’s a special barb-wire-encrusted booth reserved in hell for the people behind all these endless attempts at making relationships seem commercially appealing. How come everyone in these ads/movies/music videos smile all the time and hug? Last time I checked, it was more of a battlefield scenario: you throw a grenade, run for your life and if your enemy is still alive, you use the only weapon you have left – hate-sex (which is the only kind of sex acceptable for the people spending 24 hour in the same household for more than two days straight).

It seems like Valentine’s day was created solely to make people feel miserable. People who date have to step up their games and deliver whatever the hell their torturer demands. People who don’t date, suddenly start procrastinating on whether they should finally give in to all the psychological terror and start dating. But why can’t the like-minded warriors of independence just meet up once a year, grab some junk food (leave fancy restaurants for the people who know the names of all members of Kardashian clan), set up candles (life tip: it’s the cutest way to outsmart your electric bill) and pretend we’re in happy relationships (happy relationships being an equivalent of Santa Clause or Sasquatch – you believe it’s real until your parents tell you it’s all bollocks).

I see it as a state-of-art app where you fill in everything that there is to know about yourself and hope the other party is dyslexic. Let’s not get too creepy and follow that “Dollhouse” TV show you haven’t seen where people were turned into dummies and programmed to fulfill the needs of the elite clientele. I don’t want no sex slaves (unless agreed upon). No “Nobody knows better what I want than I do so I’ll design my own lover” nonsense, because (newsflash) nobody knows what they really want. I want the users of the app to be equally invested and clueless on both ends (like people in real relationships). And they need to go hardcore on this love thing. But just for a day. Then we can go on about our business and never make eye contact the next time we see each other at a yoga class (you do want your V-date to be flexible).

You may go beyond the trial period and get a full subscription, meaning you will spend all the holidays together. Just think about it: you’ll be able to have proper conversations over the festivities because you won’t see each other in-between and will most likely be drunk and jolly every time you meet, which is the best way to deal with any serious matter involving other human being. It will still be fresh and exciting in bed (these yoga-filled solo hiatuses you both had will do wonders for your techniques). One thing is off limits: mutual vacation. Do you really need me to tell you why it’s a bad idea to take anyone you slightly care about to Thailand?

I do have more app-pitches, if the IT team is still here. An app where you find people to go trick-or-treating with you on Halloween. An app where you can find cool guests who will pretend they’re your friends and come to your obscure-90s-teen-movie-themed birthday party. An app that finds people to laugh at your jokes. I can go on and on while I devour entire box of chocolates all by myself and wait for February 15th to finally come around.

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Posted on by Mikey Moscow in Essays

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