February 29th is the one day no man should wear deodorant - especially if he's single or once hooked up with a woman who sees hearts on his nipples rather than androgenic hair.
History deems February 29th as the day when any three-eyed bearded woman whose weight happens to be more than a double-trunked compact automobile is allowed to pursue any man of her desire relentlessly for twenty-four hours and beat the hell out of him until he agrees to marry her. Refusal of the proposed nuptials would come at a price.
The tale began some time in 5th century Ireland when a desperate wench in the heat of unbridled passion finally asked the question to her then inamorato, "What's love got to do with it?", which arguably later inspired Tina Turner's 1984 hit single, "What's Love Got To Do With It?"
The wench, very generous with her "jewelry box", was pretty disgruntled with her gentlemen caller for hooking up with her for her pleasantries without taking up interest in asking for her hand in marriage. Tired of being labeled a harlot, one night while wrapped in the arms of her philanderer, she finally complained of the sexual unfairness. Much like today, the man-friend spoke from the head in his southern region rather than the northern, and finally relented to set aside February 29th as the day the harlot would be allowed the right to ask for his hand in marriage, knowing the day would hardly ever arrive. As years passed and their relationship dissipated, four years succeeding their emotionless relations the moll took the sir up on his offer, not discerning the family he had since started with another woman of whom he'd developed genuine feelings for.
The harlot, who had not heard from her ex-mister in four turns of a set of 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 22 seconds, tracked down her old beau to insist that he honor the promise he made to her in the bed where they lay one February night four calendars passed. She had ridden a mule to the gentleman's manor and hid behind a tall horse in a backyard stable with unsubtle patience, awaiting his bride to leave the grounds with their young. Once the beau was left alone in the abode, she entered the estate, stripped him of his clothes as any honorable 5th century hooker would, and screwed him silly. With each pelvic thrust, she reminded him of the promise he made to her four years preceding that moment of conscripted fornication. Now, being a faithful gentleman betrothed to the woman who bore his namesake, the former gigolo refused the harlot's proposal. Luckily for him, this woman was scorned in the 5th century and not in present day time. Although the history of this tale is not completely substantiated, it is rumored that once the proposal was rejected, the harlot forced a razor to the gentleman's neck and demanded that he repay her heartbreak with a final French kiss, a silk dress or a pair of gloves (talk about a cheap date).
Since then, February 29th has been associated with the day where a woman can be a butch for twenty four hours and ask for a man's hand in marriage or make him pay a penalty for a rejection, which if you ask me is a win-win for the woman.