I wasn’t always as awesome as I am now. Growing up, I was the stereotypical cripplingly shy kid who never really spoke unless spoken to, which wasn’t very often. One guy even wrote in my yearbook in high school that he thought of me as “the shy beauty” and that he wished he’d spent more time getting to know me. That was senior year. He’d been in about 80 percent of my classes since kindergarten.
Nowadays, my friends never believe me when I try to explain that in high school I had three close friends, went to just two dances, skipped prom (went camping instead though, so no regrets there) and never even went on a date. I didn’t get my first kiss until I was 19. That’s because ever since college, when I decided to set my caged bird free, people have known me as a generally outgoing, fun-loving and accepting person. Very few people in my life understand why those who are socially awkward physically pain me – it’s not just because of their awkwardness, but because they remind me too much of myself, when I all I wanted was to be something different. I can’t handle it. I’ve tried before but it’s like I’m just asking to be a magnet for them to cling to…I’m getting off topic.
Here’s the point: Valentines Day SUCKS. It sucked when I was shy and it still sucks now. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of kisses since high school and even some dates now and then. But to this day, the best VDay I’ve ever had was spent with two of my best girlfriends in college. We watched The Bachelor, gorged ourselves on Oreos and then for some reason (which I can only assume was the direct result of a choco-sucrose high) raced each other up and down the dorm hall – on piggy back – which obviously led to an impromptu psycho dance party.
Seriously, forget Valentines Day, we might as well call it Vagina Day (stay with me). Think about it. In my world, most men are after it in some way or another, and retail giants are way too eager to help them out. And this “holiday” isn’t even really about romantic love anymore. I’ll admit I buy Valentines cards. But I buy them for my mom, my aunts, my cousins, my friends, etc. To most of the women I know, Valentines Day is “our day.” We’re the ones who care what you get us, not what we get you. Because men, even in long-term relationships when the surprises and excitement have faded, we still get you probably at least 52 times a year, if you know what I mean. On our day, we just want to be relaxed and enjoy ourselves – aka be gluttonous on drug store chocolate, dance in our PJs and drink wine until we end up passed out in the fetal position with a teddy bear or two or five. And most often, it’s with a small group of besties that we can really get away with that and move on the next day like it ain’t no thang.
Plus, there’s the cost factor. Celebrating love is well and good, but if the object of your affection needs things and stuff from you to feel loved, then you’re better off being spontaneous with your gifts and spreading the “love” throughout the year. She’ll never know that you got that spa coupon for 75% off through Groupon because you want to add up your points for the inevitable day you piss her off and can’t for the life of you figure out why. All she knows is, you got it “just because.” Now that’s winning. Valentine’s Day? Not so much.