In my life, I had two Valentine's (I mean, besides my mother of course) on Valentine's Day. The first was a guy I was dating who left me a Transformers card on my dorm room bed and cooked me spaghetti for dinner. This was great because I was in that "I'm an I.N.D.E.P.E.N.D.E.N.T. do you know what that means?" phase where I pretended that I could care less about a commercialized, over-rated, stupid holiday. Let's be real, I cared. All girls care. We pretend we don't want a cutsie little night with the beau. It's true that now our dream V-day might include more beer and pizza on the couch at home than our 16 year old selves would have envisioned. We still want celebration. So, I acted like I loved my card with cars turning into robots on the front and let my passive aggressive "independence" have its way.
Valentine number two I will refer to as the "Fiasco of 2006." This started like every other day in college. Woke up, got dressed, and opened the door and BAM. A box of chocolate and a note. What?! I have never gotten anything for Valentine's Day before. This is MAGICAL. My collegiate dreams were coming true! I had met the man I would marry and be having children in no time! Amazing. Best. Day. Ever. One flaw, the note had no name. Actually, it had a name "Your secret admirer." Ohhh, even more intriguing. I spent the day talking to friends, scoping out guys, pondering who ever could have left this lovely Russell Stover five piece chocolate heart at my door. It had to be my true love, obvi. I could tell my friends knew who the mystery man was. Their coy smiles couldn’t get past me. I had to get it out of them. I was finally annoying enough that they cracked. Who did they tell me I would marry, have kids with and live happily ever after with while sitting on our porch overlooking the ocean? NO ONE. They scammed be because they felt bad that I didn't have a Valentine. They had some dude write a love note to make me feel good about myself. Didn't work. I was slightly peeved that they made me spend the day thinking that I would be spending Valentine's Day evening with the man of my dreams, dining on fine food and feasting on his beauty. WRONG. Good intentions gone horribly wrong.
So, every subsequent Valentine's Day, I have indulged in wine and cheese and continued to pretend that I do not care that most of my 25 Valentine's Days have been spent alone. In truth, I don't care.
Also, if you are looking a different way to spend your February 14th, check this out:
http://www.vday.org/home
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