When I was little, I loved Valentine's Day, but only because my parents used it as an excuse to buy copious amounts of chocolate. My mom would buy multiple big hearts filled with assorted chocolates and my dad would usually come home with flowers for my mom and chocolates for each of us kids. But my feelings changed once the fourth grade hit. There was this bee-yotch in my fourth grade class named Robin. Robin bought V-day cards for everyone and stuffed them in the mailboxes we made one morning. I bought cards for everyone too. But one day, before Valentine's Day approached, I had a strange inkling and crept over to my mailbox, unnoticed, and found no card from Robin. BITCH! And thus, the realization crept over me like a cold hard slap: Valentine's Day was just a popularity contest in elementary school and would continue to be throughout high school.
In college, I had a boyfriend named Jeff. We were together for two and a half years. We spent 2 Valentine's Days together and both were totally weird. But our very first Valentine's together takes the cake. We were in Delhi, New York. If you know anything about Delhi, you know that there aren't very many nice restaurants around... and those few there were in the 90s were in Oneonta which was a half hour away. We were too dopey to put together the facts that Valentine's Day+limited nice restaurants in the Delhi vicinity=reservations at least a decade in advance. So, when we showed up to have a "romantic dinner," the hostess looked at us like we were from Jupiter. So, we ended up going to Jupiter. The Jupiter Diner. Under the bright neon lights of the busy and anything but romantic diner that sat on a major thoroughfare, I decided since it was supposed to be a special dinner, I would order a real meal. So, I ordered chicken and vegetables with mashed potatoes. Jeff played it safe with a burger and fries. When our meals arrived, my chicken was pink and had a feather in it. That kind of killed my mood. Feathers in my food usually serve to be a huge buzz kill. I totally loved Jeff but that Valentine's Day made me depressed and not at all in the mood for love.
Further down the road by a few years, I was living in Saratoga and dating a douche that I really liked at the time. His name was D.J. D.J. decided that we would go out and have a nice meal and spend a cozy evening together. I really liked him a lot and so for Valentine's Day, I made him a gift. I don't really know what it was, but I had glued a sheet of thick paper to a thin piece of wood and, on it, had written quotes from books that I found to be moving. I painted the wooden side navy blue and drew our astrological signs tied together with a heart. I tied it up in a bow using hemp and could not wait to give my boyfriend, who I was crazy about, this piece of art that took days to complete. Well, we broke up that very weekend. I envisioned taking that painting/quote board and smashing it over my knee as I stared him dead in the eye. But I didn't. Instead, I just drove myself home and drank until I no longer could feel the sadness.
A few years ago, I dated a Dane. We were super into each other for the first few months. But, at this point, I was older and wiser and had already grown to despise everything that Valentine's Day stood for. So, when he suggested that we go over-the-top romantic and gushy with it, I laughed and said that Valentine's Day was a lame Hallmark holiday and I didn't care one bit about it. Then I started to feel bad. After all, maybe they didn't have Valentine's Day in Denmark and this was his chance to celebrate. Who was I to deprive him of this experience? We were visiting Portland during Valentine's Day that year and I decided to try to come around to the idea. So, I bought him a little box of fancy handmade truffles tied with a beautiful red bow and planned a night at a wellness center (clothing-optional hot tub). Well, he never acknowledged the day. I didn't feel doted on or special and we weren't in love, so it was a sham, really, and taking a dip in that giant salt water hot tub under the stars only made me realize the lack of deep connection even more.
That's the thing. I think that if you're dating someone around February 14th that you're not in love with, this "love-y" holiday puts the pressure on. You kind of have to acknowledge it, so you go for it. But then it makes you realize your true feelings, whether they're there or not. And, usually, it'll push the newer relationships into break up zone because you don't really want to have to pretend you love somebody when you don't. Who needs that pressure?
I think there should be a holiday acknowledging things like breaking up with a slutty girl who cheats on you or divorcing a deadbeat dad. And, not to go too Carrie Bradshaw on all your asses, but what about those of us who won't settle? Those of us who go it alone, fearlessly, with hope in our hearts and too much pride to date people with whom there is no spark? Those of us who don't put up with the bullshit some guys try to give us and who call a spade a spade? Where is the fiercely independent woman's holiday?
Most people will say that the only people who don't like Valentine's Day are those who are single and that is just not true. I have tried really hard to make it nice with the boyfriends I had during that day; it's just that I feel I don't need a holiday to tell me to show someone I love them. I mean, showing someone affection is rad, but isn't it a bit robotic when you are forced into it by the calendar?
If you are in love and you love February 14th, by all means, enjoy yourselves and have a great day. But for those of you who feel like me (and I know you're out there by the thousands) maybe we should just pretend it's treat yourself well day and do something awesome for the best person in your life: you!
Here is a picture of me typing an angry letter to Hitler back in 2008. If I'm not mistaken, Hitler was the inventor of Valentine's Day...
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