Valentine's Love

Valentine's Day is an alienating tradition full of pressure and angst.

Those in relationships are forced to find the perfect present and date based on a long list of factors. Your union is only a month old? How much do you spend? Too much might mean you're too involved in the person. Too little, and you're as cheap as a 2007 Toyota Corolla. Creep or cheap, take your pick.

Those not in relationships are forced to find alternative activities, each one having unique implications. Those who go to bars can seem desperate or hopeless. Those who hang out strictly with members of the same sex can seem spiteful or insensitive. Those who stay home, stuff their faces and make love to the DVR can seem broken or bitter. I, myself, have been classified as all three.

Let's be clear. I am not one of those fuck-corporate-America Valentine's Day haters. I think it is a very nice little holiday. My senior year of high school - the only year I've managed to stomach a sappy boyfriend enough to wait to break up with him until February 15 - I was thrilled the day existed. Not because of all the mushiness - but because it meant I was better than all of my friends.

I was ecstatic that I could finally rub in the face of everyone of my unloved friends that I had a very real Valentine's Day date who I loved very much (read: I wanted 12 $1 carnations waiting for me on my desk in homeroom so I kept him around). I can still remember the sweet sense of self-actualization I felt, knowing how much more meaning my life had than each one of my single friends'.

It was touching, really. I picked him up in my Accord and we listened to Eminem while feverishly holding hands all the way to Applebee's. Then I opened the Build-a-Bear (!) he made for me, read the cheesiest card known to man, got weirded out and lied about having to be home at 9:30.

The only part of Valentine's Day I hate is that on Monday, everyone on the planet will be forced to relive his or her choice of festive activity at least 64 times. There is lot's of shame involved for us singletons. "Oh you went out in the North End then strolled along the Greenway, stopping at every corner to have him express his love for you? That's cool. I took care of my drunk roommate who cried to me about how lonely she is and how she hates herself because she lost her bag."

I can't wait for Tuesday.