Oh Happy Day.....

Oh, this “happy” day. This day known to all love-sick people as “Valentine’s Day”. Quite frankly, all the companies that make money for marketing such a ridiculous tradition should be ninja-bitch-kicked in the face. The condom companies, wine stores, lingerie stores, candy stores, jewelry stores and worst of all- Hallmark. Yes, I said it. Hallmark should be ninja-bitch-kicked. While all the lovers in the world, married, engaged, dating, or ‘talking’ celebrate this day with joy, we single folks are left out. How fair is that? I’m pretty sure St. Valentine never intended to leave the single population of the world out of his celebration of love and happiness. I mean, how Christian is that?

As a child, my teachers encourage everyone to bring Valentines for the whole class. That way no one felt left out. Plus it was a great way for the teachers to get away with not having a lesson planned. They would sugar us up with cookies and soda, pass out Valentines so that we all truly believe that we are a “Q T Pie”, and send us buzzing home to our unsuspecting parents to deal with. If only our 8 year old brains could see in to the future and know that this sort of happiness won’t accompany every Valentine’s Day.

In my middle school days, I had a long standing crush on a boy. He asked me to be his girlfriend on a misspelled, handwritten note and I happily obliged…only to be brutally dumped a few days later by the words “you’re out” in front of all his friends as they laughed hysterically in that pre-teen way that still makes my skin crawl 15 years later. I was crushed. Then, a few weeks later our asshole teachers planned a little Valentine Mixer complete with music and food. So while I sat in the corner, dying for 2:30 to roll around so I could go cry in my mother’s classroom, I saw him having a great time laughing and dancing with an 8^th grade girl. This girl went through boyfriends like a stripper goes through outfits. Eventually, I got over it. And by “got over it” I mean I began liking his cousin. It didn’t exactly work out between us either, but that’s ok. Their family turned out to be bat-shit-crazy, and super white trash. But my prepubescent little mind didn’t think about how things like that can make life miserable later.

By the time I got to high school, I’d officially decided I HATE Valentine’s Day and everything it stood for. The sick-to-my stomach sugar buzz and lack of secret admirers while other little girls in my class had lots just made me feel bad about myself. As if having braces, knobby knees, and frizzy hair wasn’t enough. Each year, the sophomore class sold red carnations as a fund raiser. Since it wasn’t mandatory to include everyone as we did in grade school, I only received flowers from my girlfriends. No boys. As I write this little satire, 12 years later it’s simply comical. But for a 14 year old, it’s devastating.  You’d think that since it was a Catholic high school, people would have had a more giving, loving attitude. Yeah. Not so much. Apparently not everyone was worth the $1 that each carnation cost. I’m pretty sure St. Valentine was disappointed.

It wasn’t until my Junior year that I had an actual plan for Valentine’s Day. A long time secret crush I had asked me to go to a dance with him. Finally! He and I are going to be on a date. He’s going to see what an awesome person I am and maybe even want a 2^nd and 3^rd date!!! I was stoked. I did my hair all fancy, bought a new dress and waited excitedly for him to arrive. An hour before he was supposed to pick me up, he called to tell me I was going to have to pay for ½ my ticket ($25). No biggie, right? This should have been a huge red flag as to how the evening was going to progress…but I kept a positive attitude. This was a mistake. A futile mistake. When we arrived, he refused to take pictures with me, and completely ditched me to go get drunk in the bathroom with his friends from the flasks they’d snuck in, concealed in their jacket pockets. Since it was a public dance that all high school students could attend, I attempted to pick up my dignity and go mingle with other people. Later, I was mid-conversation with a mildly attractive guy when I noticed that he was acting a little strange. As he began to vomit in his hands, sitting inches from me, I realized it was time to go home. I found someone with a phone and called for a ride home… and never spoke to my date again.

In college, I had a steady beau for 3 years. Our first Valentine’s Day as a new couple- he spoiled me with a Hawaiian lei made of real flowers that he’d ordered online. I was born in Honolulu and spent my first 3 years of my life there, so naturally I was floored at his gesture. Then he took a romantic sushi dinner at our favorite place and we topped it off making out on his couch. It was hot. That was the last nice Valentine’s Day I had. I was 19. The next few Valentine’s Days that we shared were less than mediocre. I spent my last on as a college student with my parents having a cozy dinner at Applebees. After that, I had another mediocre one with a boyfriend of 3 months. His dad was in town, so we spent most of the day with him at the Naval Air Museum (not sooo bad considering I love that place), having a lunch of fried seafood, and then finally got some alone time that night…the boyfriend’s idea of romance? Ordering takeout, watching hockey, and going to bed. I know what you’re thinking. “He must have made it up with some really good sex, right?” Yeah. Right. You’d think that would have been his plan of action, so I didn’t completely get upset that we didn’t do anything cool. Apparently not. As I’m sure you can guess, we are no longer together either. Darn.

Last year, I cleaned out my refrigerator and made myself homemade sushi while watching SATC reruns. And this year… I’m working. Although I did decorate the office with lots of Valentine paraphernalia, despite my deep-seated genuine loathing of this day. This day that once again reminds me that I do not have a special someone missing me at home and planning a make-up-valentine surprise for me. No flowers, no jewelry, no candy, no wine, no slutty lingerie, and no obligatory ‘Valentine’s Day Booty’ (similar to birthday booty).

At this point, you probably think I’m an extremely bitter, senile old spinster at the ripe age of 26. Oh contraire, my friends. Oh contraire. My time of being a “we” will come. But I’m not ready. Honestly, the idea of sharing a living space such as an apartment or a home with a man I plan to keep around for longer than a few months scares the absolute “bejesus” out of me. Why? Well, read my SSB series and you’ll see. But one day, some unsuspecting guy will meet me and realize he can’t live without me, because I am just that fabulous. Right now, though, I am taking the advice of all my married friends and just enjoying my freedom. I have found peace in my independence and I will not measure myself by the things I lack. Besides, a girl can never have too many pairs of shoes. Ever.