Anyone who knows me well is aware of the fact that I’m very much Anti-Valentine’s Day. The high expectations, the lack of spontaneity, the expense—really, it’s enough to give a person a panic attack. I feel for men at this time of year, because all the pressure is on them. All women have to do is prepare to give it up on this one night…and that’s only if our men live up to our expectations and don’t f**k things up.

The only folks who enjoy this holiday are first-timers—that is, couples celebrating a holiday together for the first time. Going out to dinner or a show is still a novelty, as is having sex with each other. Flowers and gifts take on so much more meaning, as do the words, “I love you.”

Fast forward to a couple that’s been together for ten years, and Valentine’s Day is almost an afterthought, as in, (during a commercial break) “Oh yeah, Happy Valentine’s Day, by the way” (quick peck on the lips,  resume watching TV show).

“But we celebrate our love every day,” is an argument I hear a lot. Yes, but are you having sex every day? Because, let’s face it, that’s what this holiday is all about for most people: Getting laid. Why else would men go through all the trouble? They know that nothing says foreplay better than a dozen red roses and an expensive dinner out.

Women expect something before they give something. Try forgetting to buy your woman a gift on her birthday and see how lucky you get that night. Used to be a woman needed a marriage proposal before she gave it up; nowadays it seems all a women needs is a drink before she’ll go home with you.

I wasn’t always this antagonistic toward VD. But one February, many years ago, my boyfriend dumped me out of the blue right before the 14th. I was devastated. Then came the dreaded LUV day. I watched my fellow co-workers receive bouquets of flowers. I rode the subway home, watching men holding bouquets of flowers, and women holding bouquets of flowers they had received that day. I wanted to take a weed whacker to all the smug buds nestled in baby’s breath. It made my break-up about 760,000 times worse than it already was.

No matter how OKAY you might think you are with being single, Valentine’s Day is the one day where that belief is challenged. Just watch all the women around you wearing red or pink, with their nails painted in red or pink, popping Hershey’s kisses in their mouths, and it’s hard not to wonder if you’re missing out on something by remaining unattached.

Trust me, you’re not. I’m here to smack you back into reality. In the words of Matt Groening, “Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.”

I wish I knew who wrote this little gem of a poem, because I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Anti-Valentine’s Day Poem

Hearts and roses and kisses galore,
What the hell is all that shit for?
People get mushy and start acting queer,
It is definitely the most annoying day of the year.
This day needs to get the hell over with and pass,
Before I shove something up Cupid’s ass.
I’ll spend the day so drunk I can’t speak
And wear black every day for the rest of the week.
Guys act all sweet, but soon it will fade,
For all they are doing is trying to get laid.
The arrow Cupid shot at me must not have hit,
Cause I think this love thing is a crock of shit.
So, here’s my story… what else can I say?
Love bites my ass… Fuck Valentine’s Day!

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