Oh, Valentine’s Day. Few other “holidays” evoke such drastic reactions with just the mere mention of the day. While hating Valentines Day has become cliché’ almost to the point of feeling mandatory, I will bravely admit that I do not detest the day in itself. I actually appreciate the sentiment behind it, but it has become so commercialized that even Christmas would be jealous. Why should an un-potty trained, weapon-yielding winged toddler have the ability to pressure people into a mid-winter spending spree? It’s kinda creepy. It’s like Zales and Whitman’s are in the midst of a winter depression, and have teamed up to try and take over the world (or at least dominate this quarter of the fiscal year.)
The holiday has become a mockery of its original intent (although I’m not 100% sure what that would be). Those who are coupled up feel pressure to appease their long-term partners with half-assed efforts of greater-than-usual sentiment. People in new relationships feel awkward about how much they are supposed to do, if anything. And then you have the singles. Single people have two options. Many ignore the holiday altogether because they are unhappy with or indifferent to their singledom. Women who do not chose option #1 will go out together in small groups to celebrate their independence by getting really really sloppy drunk. Resourceful single men go seek out these women and hope that they can get them to make bad decisions with them before they go home to drunk text their exes and pass out.
No matter how you choose to celebrate (or not), remember that nothing heals an arrow-inflicted puncture wound to the sternum area quite like chocolates and stuffed pink bears in “I love you” mugs. I am convinced that many men go the chocolate/fancy dinner route in an attempt to triple their paramour’s daily caloric intake, ending with a few pounds gained that will hopefully result in bigger boobs.
I can feel the love.