To say that I hate Valentine's Day is to commit an error of proportion. In actuality, every mote of my being loathes it with the white-hot intensity of a galaxy of supernovae. If I had the choice between saving a busload of children or admitting I liked today....
... well, okay, I'd save the children. Damn it. But for the rest of my life I'd gripe about how I'd made the wrong choice.
I hate this day because it's completely and utterly artificial. People in love don't need a day to celebrate because love is a constant celebration. Or, to put it another way, "If there's a Mothers' Day and a Fathers' Day, why isn't there a Children's' Day?" The answer to this, as every parent and reader of Peanuts knows, is "Because every day is Children's' Day.
So, to those who are well and truly in love, Every day is Valentine's Day. You don't need this day to show love. No, this day was created as a marketing gimmick by the greeting card, candy, and jewelry industry:
Exhibit 1: A schmaltzy card that says "I love you" with intertwined rosebushes whilst bunnies and duckies frolic playfully under a smiling Mr. Sun.This is false sentiment. This is emotional shorthand. Wouldn't it be more compelling, more authentic, more loving just to say what you feel? Write a love note. Call and express your feelings of devotion. Hell, if you're not good with words, a loving hug will speak multitudes.
People, if you have to resort to Hallmark, you are admitting that you cannot do the job. Would you let Hallmark have sex with the person you loved? HELL NO! Why, then, are you letting them do the emotional equivalent?
Exhibit 2: A heart-shaped box of chocolates.Don't get me wrong here: I love chocolate. In fact, I could eat my weight in chocolate. This is why it's a mistake to get a girl a box of them. We will eat them all, and then feel fat. Feeling fat is not sexy. Not feeling sexy means you don't get any tonight. No, chocolates should be like orgasms: a few at a time, but highly potent. And if you can somehow mix your chocolates and orgasms together, I envy you. picsplzkthanx.
For the record, I'm sitting at home eating a box of chocolates that my mother bought me. Isn't that cool? I'm trying to decide if it would be more pathetic if I had bought the chocolate myself. On the one hand, if I did it myself, I could claim empowerment: "I bought it because I wanted chocolate today! I don't need anyone to get it for me! I can do it myself!" On the other hand, not getting anything from your mother on Valentine's Day is another way of saying "Not even the woman who brought you into this world loves you."
So you see my predicament.
Exhibit 3: The ubiquitous diamond.Diamonds are wonderful, pretty things. I like to look at them, I like what they stand for, I like that they are essential components in a Bond villain's death ray. What I hate is how they have become a modern bride price in commercials.
Don't act coy, you know what I'm talking about. Since October we've been bombarded with advertisements that state, in effect, "The only way to buy her love is to get her a diamond. You're not a man unless you buy her a diamond. Buy her a diamond and she'll love you forever."
For only the cost of a diamond, you, too, can own a human being.
I hate, HATE, HATE the concept that something as rare, as precious, as beautiful as love can somehow be measured, or worse, bought, by a few ounces of crystallized coal. And I know that's not how it really is. But that's what the commercials would have us believe, and so every time I see one of those blogfodder ads from Jared, I have to be physically restrained from throwing something heavy at my television.
That's why I hate today. I freely admit that my tune would be different if I was in a loving relationship right now. But until then, all I want to do scream:
Bring me Cupid's head on a platter!
(with apologies to Grant and Hynes, from whose webcomic Two Lumps I stole today's title)
post edited it needed a better ending