Stupid Freakin’ Cupid

I hate Valentine’s Day.

Yes, me the romantic Hates it. When I was a little girl, it
was a day that my dad would bring home heart-shaped boxes of candy for my sisters and me, as well as a beautiful bunch of yellow roses for my mother, her favorite. I used to dream of the day I would have my very own Valentine, Prince Charming, Knight in Shining Armor…etc. But little did I know, my expectations of this day would never be met.

In high school, I was an awkward, tentative girl who had more dreams about a boyfriend than an actual guy to like. College brought a couple of dudes, but only one who was around during the month of February. We had a plan to go out on Valentine’s day, it was going to be our first real date since we had only ever been out as friends before then, but good ol’ Dan the man, was called into work at the last minute cancelling our date. We rescheduled and a snow storm hit. I gave up on a third, angry at a once again missing a Valentine’s day. This one sort of pulled itself out of the weeds, because by the next day a bunch of wildflowers were delivered to my house with a card that read: Second time was snow, first time was work, for sure for sure on Friday we’ll go. (Yes, I still have it memorized – ehh it’s an easy poem.) We did finally make it out to a nice dinner in front of an icy, snow-dusted waterfall, but V-day was long gone.

Years went by before I had another date, or even a hope of a date, on the holiday of hearts and candy. Friends during these lonely times didn’t help either. One gave presents to my sisters and me as she shared happiness with her girl friends. Kelli, my sister, received a beautiful bud vase . I don’t remember what I got because my mind will be forever stuck on the sentence this friend uttered to me when Kelli opened her gift: “I didn’t think you’d like the vase because you don’t have someone to give you flowers and Kelli does.” Take knife, slice and pour on the salt!

Another date-missing year, I was working at a frozen yogurt place and it was decided I would close the shop for the night because everyone else had dates and I didn’t. Sure, it’s logical but it hurt just the same. A nagging reminder I had yet to find love, even at the age of 22.

Now, one would think as soon as I met my lovely husband all that would change right? Guess again. My Dearest Jon is adversely against this- in his words, Hallmark Holiday, despite the fact it has been celebrated with romantic connotation since the 14th century. There’s even a line in Hamlet (per Wikipedia):

To-morrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.

Our first Valentine’s Day was funny, the man who didn’t want to celebrate the romance of the day, bought me a vast array of red things and set them up on the couch. There was a small bouquet of red roses, a few bottles of Coca-Cola, Twizzlers and a package of Tylenol…. yes Tylenol – it has a red package. He tried, but he really didn’t want to celebrate. Since then one of us has had to work or we do go out, but it’s always under the pretense, that we’re just going out, it’s not because it’s Valentine’s Day. The day is always swept under rug, never treated as something special. And frankly, it sucks.

Now, you might think I’ve used the last 500 words to complain, but the truth of the matter is, this is therapy. I love being in love, I love feeling of being the center of someone’s attention, I want to be the Queen of my husband’s world and is it really that bad to want to be showered with love and affection the same day everyone else is? Don’t let me be the one person who so desperately wants to run around in white lace and curls be the one who is constantly rejected, disappointed and angered on Valentine’s Day. So until that day comes -stuff it Cupid!

p.s. I do love my husband – even if he is romantically challenged.



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