It starts with a rash. Bits of red everywhere: in drugstores, in storefronts, in coffee shops and restaurants. Here it comes again: the parade of roses, crimson hearts, cloying plush animals, glistening boxes of candy, and those damn chubby cupids pointing their arrows in every direction but yours. Pain and irritation are sure to follow. Once again corporate America has conspired to remind you that on this day in mid-February, you are alone.
What if you're (un?)fortunate enough not to be alone? Then this is the day you must assess your togetherness to just the right degree, via edibles and gifts (or even edible gifts, if that's your thing). Whether it's love, like, or lust, be sure to get it right, or you'll risk joining the ranks of those poor suckers who have to navigate the bloody rivers of Valentine's Day in a single-person kayak.
Oh, wait. I'm one of those poor suckers.
I was starting to brew up some really good Valentine's Day angst; part annoyance, part anger, part melancholy. I was getting some fierce emotional bile building. Then it went away.
The thing is, I don't feel like letting V-Day get me down this year. I don't want those pre-printed Hallmark sentiments or heart-shaped boxes to have any power over me. Yes, I do feel a sting every time I see a women with a bouquet of flowers (I don't know why it's always the flower thing that gets me). Yes, I'm irritated that my last three relationships ran their course during the non-Valentine's Day part of the year, which will make it the fifth year in a row that I'm single on this sadistic holiday.
So f-in' what?
One of my worst Valentine's Days went down when I had a boyfriend. One of my best was spent entirely on my own.
It's just another day.
I thought of taking a personal day, to avoid all the lovey-dovey propaganda and enjoy some me-time (no, not that kind of me-time). Instead, Willow and I are going to meet downtown and take advantage of the various V-Day drink specials on offer. Perhaps I'll send a smutty drunken text or two as well. That's it.
It's tempting to use this day as a point of contemplation, to take stock and assess one's personal State of the Romantic Nation. I advise against it. The best way to survive the potential pressures of V-Day is to remain indifferent to them. I refuse to let this day be an excuse to whine and mope about being single. At this moment in time, I'm actually quite happy being single. And if I start to feel otherwise at any point during tomorrow night's outing, there will be plenty of tequila readily available.
I don't know about you, but I'm ready for the big V tomorrow. Let Cupid and Co. do his worst.