You’re going to hate me but… Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday. But! Wait! I’ve never had a real Valentine in all my 25 years, so don’t hate on me. The closest I ever got was one year in high school when my soon-to-be-boyfriend suggested I drive to 7-11 with him while he got some Gatorade for a swim meet, right before I left for a family vacation. He surprised me with a mini box of chocolates. I remember it fondly. I’m glad I didn’t think to get him anything because I don’t think I knew he was deathly allergic to nuts at that point and I might have killed him by accident.
I spent the year after that, my senior year in high school at the supermarket ringing up flowers for men who were picking up their bouquets last minute. Literally they were the only customers that day. Men with flowers.
But that’s been pretty much my experience with Valentine’s Day. I’ve never gotten flowers (from someone other than my dad), even though I watched girls in 7th grade get them from their boyfriends (aka boyfriend’s mothers, because what 7th grader can afford a dozen roses on Valentines Day?) in science class. I’ve watched people get surprise carnations delivered to them in high school and college. And twice I decided to dedicate the day to my ex boyfriend (I’d get him presents and make dinner, and even cursed out his coach who didn’t cancel practice that night), who refused to celebrate Valentine’s Day, especially because my birthday is a week before and I JUST GOT flowers last week. Because every girl loves feeling special like that. (This is not even close to one of the worst things I endured due to that relationship, but it still leaves a particular sting.) I just asked him to make me a card, and he didn’t even do that. So I just pretended that it didn’t matter to me that every other girl gets to have Valentines Day and I didn’t. I just pretended that the point of Valentine’s Day is overpriced flowers and that’s why it was ok that I got to miss out. And don’t be stupid, I love flowers. One year in college after a particularly rough period of time, I bought myself flowers for the kitchen table every single week. Because you know what, if no one’s buying you flowers, you might as well get them for your damn self. I thought about it this year BUT! there’s that tiny detail about how I’m back in school and have no disposable income.
But truthfully, I love Valentine’s Day. How can you hate a day based on love? I’ve always made a point to make cookies or cupcakes or send people that I love Valentines because it makes me feel good, even if I am alone. I am a very sappy person at heart. A very, very sappy person. I can’t tell you how many six page letters I’ve written to people telling them how much I love them that are going to bite me in the ass some day. I have an extreme weakness for things that are cute, have eyes, are fuzzy, physically immature, or pink. The Valentine’s Day Target aisle turns me into Kristen Bell on sloths.
This year, my dad will get me carnations, which I will appreciate because it will make me feel a little less unloved, but I’ll also kind of hate them because they’re pity flowers. The point is, that I refuse to hate Valentine’s Day because then… I mean IF I ever date anyone decent and they decide I am worthy of a Valentine’s Day even though I happened to pop out of the womb 7 days before (ok and guess what, I spent my first Valentine’s Day in the f*cking NICU alone screaming in pain in my little incubator while some stupid nurse neglected me and a caustic substance burned a hole through my foot, ok? Or perhaps that was the day the gave me a spinal tap, or maybe that was the day they had to anesthetize me to take skin off my ass to put on my foot… I don’t know. Wait, did I mention I’m not bitter?) I don’t want to be a Valentine’s Day poser. I don’t want to love it all of a sudden just because someone loves me. That’s cheap and easy. I’m going to love it ALL THE TIME, ALL THE DAYS, EVERY YEAR because it’s a cute holiday. It’s the only day where you can openly express your love for anyone and everyone and you don’t seem like a psycho stage-five clinger.
One of my favorite Valentine’s Days, was in college when my roommate and I wrote out stupid little cards with attached lollipops and went around to the dorms and slid them under our friend’s doors. It was very Valentine’s Day heist. She was a great roommate.
Last year I bought myself a huge stuffed bear for myself on Valentine’s Day. He lives on my bed. I may or may not have extracted the sewn-on heart from his hands. I also got my best friend the c-u-t-e-s-t card and mailed it specifically so that it would get to her office on Valentine’s Day and it literally got lost in the mail. She still has not received it. It made me want to kick things.
This year I’m super excited about those Starbucks Valentine’s Day cups. I even went in the other day just to get one (even though I’ve abstained from Sbux since before Christmas because I am funemployed) and they gave everyone else one and gave me a plain one! You’d think I’d have made that up just to drive a point home, but in typical Alyssa fashion, that actually happened and it was ridiculous. Sometimes I think Ashton Kutcher is following me around punking me. We have the same birthday. Him, and me, and Charles Dickens. I’m the coolest.
This year I’ll be spending Vday (ha! maybe I should start calling it Virgin Day since I’m basically a born-again virgin) in Microbiology and having a Chemistry test! And I will love every minute of it. And I will probably spend a good 4 hours of the day texting people that I love and writing sappy emails on this godforsaken new iphone that I hate with a burning, fiery passion. Then I’ll come home and my parents will probably be snuggling on the couch next to the fire and I’ll roll my eyes and then eat my feelings with the entire pan of brownies my mom will have inevitably made by then.
And in my future relationships, I’m not going to pretend like it’s OK that someone just ignore me completely on Valentines Day. I don’t care that roses are double the price. You better f*cking get me some, and you better tell me how much you love me and how awesome and beautiful I am, and you better pretend to like it or I’ll rip your d*ck off.