You know what? February is a somewhat critical month in American history because we celebrate… my birth. We also celebrate Valentine’s Day. Well. Some of us. Not me. At least not this year. That’s okay though!

Because everything will be alright because I have the burning, romantic spirit of a true man.

In the greatest period of world history, the 1980s, women got kidnapped a lot. Gangs and other shady figures were usually behind these crimes happening; it was usually a good way to get out of going to class. So what did boyfriends do when this shit happened? Call the cops? HA! No dudes. They got their bro – who may have been their actual brother or a ninja and sneakers – and wrecked a whole town full of douchebags until they beat down some evil prick either named Slick, or Willy, or that guy in a wheelchair who wasn’t really crippled. And after that, the two loves were reunited once again.

Now that is true romance.

You know what’s not romantic? Writing a poem. Yeah, like that is fucking going to save your girlfriend when a gang wanting to learn Sousetsuken takes your woman away.

So when February 14th comes ladies, you judge your man by how far he is willing to go to save your life if it was in danger and not the fancy bullshit words he sings or writes.  The man who will bleed and fight for you is the man you should be with.