The requisite valentine's day (post).

This is my requisite Valentine's Day post. When did I become so freaking jaded? I clearly need an attitude adjustment. And a good stiff one. A drink, that is.

Valentine's Day, as we all know, is the day of love. Out of all the 364.25 days of the year, this is the ONE day that people are required to show their love for one another. This expression of deep, meaningful love usually takes the form of the $8.49 red rose bouquet, complete with cellophane and paper wrapping (available at your local mom'n'pop convenience store). It may also take the form of the famous Russell Stover heart-shaped chocolate collection, of which only one or two pieces are actually edible (available at your local CVS). Usually, with one of the above, comes a ridiculously oversized card that leaves a mess of red glitter all over the lap of the unfortunate recipient.

I grew up in a card-retarded family, meaning we never, under any circumstances, bought stupid cards for one another. Well, maybe for Mom's or Dad's birthday. And let me tell you, finding a card for Dad's birthday is no easy task. They are ALL ill-humored and stupid beyond belief, reminding Dad that getting old SUCKS, and that he is, in fact, getting old (and therefore, sucks??). These cards usually close their witty ageist ramblings with the words "Oh Well! Have a Great One Anyway!" Blech.

Cards generally have no meaning to me. You want to impress me? Write me a real letter. On real paper. With a real pen. Now, THAT's impressive. THAT's romance. And I love love love it.

Way back in the second grade, we would buy boxes of Valentine's notecards, which one would fill out (in crayon, preferrably) and give to classmates on this most holiest of love-days. The cards had some appropriately juvenile image on it with a coordinating catchphrase. Think "I Choo Choo Choose You!" and you've got it. Filling it out was simple. There were lines with instructions beneath. Just like Mad Libs. _______From_________, _________To________. And that's pretty much it.

We were all at a point where we were starting to figure out who the popular kids were, like a pack of puppies who play around to single out potential Alphas. The future cheerleaders and quaterback-wanna-bes would collect a heap of cards, while the kid in the corner with the snaggletooth would get none. I always felt bad for the kid with the snaggletooth (or the bad clothes, or the cowlick, or whatever other stupid unique thing they had that resulted in their ostracism), so I would fill out some anonymous cards and drop them off at their desks when no one was looking. (Heck, I felt bad, but I still had to protect my fragile rep!) I'd usually collect the minimum acceptable standard amount of cards myself, so I was generally satisfied, but I was really disgusted by the whole process and would literally watch some of the kids cry because they didn't get a note from so-and-so, or because they only got one (anonymous) card. Oof.

This is where I can pinpoint my first experiences with my disgust in Valentine's Day, and I wonder how over-the-top a holiday has to be before people start to seriously look at a holiday recall.

First of all, any so-called "holiday," for which buying something material is a requirement, should be called into question at once. (I could cite Christmas as well, but that's a whole other ball of wax, for another post, at some other time.) Seriously. Let's look at this. It is a day of love. Love can be shared poetically, sexually, verbally. Materially??? I don't think so. Unless you are a gold-digging whorey vapid bimbo who is incapable of love. To whom I say you are devoid of deepness. And to whom this post does not apply, since for you, Valentine's Day is not about love. Dare I say it! It's all about loot from Tiffany & Co. I said it.

Secondly, any so-called "holiday," for which participation has a dating requirement, should be written off. Immediately. How many ill-conceived couples stretched their futile relationships just to avoid the awkwardness of the VD breakup? How many people agonized over the minimum acceptable length of time to stay together afterward? How many people abstained from hooking up entirely during this time to avoid the awkward "what the hell do I DO with this person on Valentine's Day" conundrum? And what of the FWPs? A whole other complication altogether. By definition, these are FRIENDS (With Privileges), so there should be NO gift-giving or acknowledgement of any kind. However, I wonder how many FWPs felt a sense of loss because their f-buddy didn't come through with anything. Not that anything is ever expected. But you know, some people get these fleeting romantic notions that FWPs are actually MTFWPs (More Than Friends....), which of course, is never the case.

Are the gifts one receives on this day that great? Does anyone seriously think that if they get a crappy box of chocolates on the very same damn day that everyone else is getting the same crappy box of chocolates, their love is super-duper special?

I am calling for a recall of Valentine's Day, and instead implore all the couples of the world to demonstrate their love for one another in more personal ways throughout the year. Everyone should choose their own special date and make it their own personal "Valentine's Day." Why should VD have to be on February 14th for everyone? In addition, I wish to recommend a self-love day, where everyone is required to take themselves out, buy themselves chocolate and treat themselves to some Tiffany & Co loot. Why should couples have all the fun?

Of course, I say this completely jaded and in a mess of my own. So this is all to be taken with a grain of salt. I am normally a huge mush. Some days I really love that people can love one another. And by golly, if some dolt has to have it pre-printed on a calendar, then who am I to say that it's all wrong?

Oh what the hell do I know?

"What's your name?"
"Lysa"
"I am pointing to my..."
"Nose."
"What's in my hands?"
"Nothing."