Valentine’s Day is coming! Are you excited? I’m not. I haven’t been excited for Valentine’s Day since I was nine, back when the holiday was all about giving crummy little cartoon cards to everyone in your class (even the weirdo, because you had to) and eating those candy hearts with awkward come-ons printed on them.
First of all, the whole romance thing is lost on me. If you love someone, you should be acting like it all year long. Don’t treat me like crap for 364 days and then write me a sonnet in February, dude. Besides, isn’t that what anniversaries are for? How many times a year must we celebrate our love? I mean, um, I totally celebrate it daily, already.
Cards are the worst. There’s nothing more awkward than staring at a photo of a sunset for 30 seconds, pretending that you’re reading some flowery words that ostensibly represent how your beloved feels towards you, even though it was actually written by a complete stranger down at the Hallmark factory.
Fancy dinner? Count me out. Expensive food is gross, and bras and high heels hurt. In fact, I don’t like going to any restaurant on Valentine’s Day. You have to make a reservation, they’re always overcrowded and running late, and half of them jack up the prices and force you to order off of a “special” fixed menu with only two or three choices. I just want a pizza, damn you! Stop it with your bacon-wrapped scallops and twin lobsters already!
I don’t want flowers. Cutting and arranging them is too much work, especially once you consider the fact that they’ll only last for three days, and I’ll be spending about five hours each day screaming at the cats to stop trying to eat them because they might be poisonous. And what are you doing on the counter, anyway? Bad cat!
Jewelry is a huge waste of money, and I’m too much of a clumsy oaf to take care of it. My husband once bought me a lovely diamond necklace when we were dating. After the third time we had to replace the delicate chain (because I remove my shirts with all the grace of the Incredible Hulk), he conceded that maybe I’m just not meant to have nice things. If he absolutely insists on buying me something shiny for Valentine’s Day, I do have my eye on a new set of kitchen knives.
And finally, the boxes of chocolates… Are totally awesome and I would like ten of them, please. But I want chocolate every day. No need to wait until the fourteenth. Honey, are you reading this?
This post originally appeared on In the Powder Room