I hate Valentine’s Day. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but over time I’ve come to realize something: St. Valentine’s Day is an utterly worthless holiday, pointless, irritating and totally commercialized. Other than the opportunity to watch “Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown” and eat those chalky little hearts, I find no redeeming qualities.
If such proclamations make you cringe (and those of you out there watching Meg Ryan flicks are probably already doing so), consider this: How can a day that is marked on our cultural calendar as a “romantic day” be even remotely romantic?
Love shouldn’t be about balloons and stuffed animals. Quite frankly, if the only way you can show affection is by buying your sweetheart a pound of candy, I think that’s pretty sad.
I have had dates and even relationships that fell on the jour d’amour, but to me the prospect of asking some completely obscure crush for a date (on a day when your romantic intent cannot be misunderstood) seems downright hokey. Isn’t it more romantic to take your girlfriend/boyfriend out for a candlelit dinner on any old Saturday or cover their bed in rose petals on some regular day when they don’t expect it?
The problem is all pressure. You can try and fight Valentine’s Day by swearing off the gifts, but on the 14th, even the strongest break down and buy a valentine. However, I have hope for the future that with the aid of this soapbox we might shake this holiday once and for all. You may laugh, but it has happened before (remember Columbus Day?) and it can happen again.
Today, I am declaring our independence from Valentine’s Day and the newly documented psychological disorder Post-Romantic Stress Disorder (or PRSD).
For those of you who haven’t heard, PRSD is a tragic disease characterized by palm-sweating nervousness, mass consumption of chocolates, flashes of red and pink in the peripheral vision, and the compulsion to make dinner reservations. What I am getting at is that we have rights.
First and foremost, we have the right to ignore Hallmark. Any company that sells you dancing snowmen one month and useless kissing bear figurines the next must have an
ulterior motive (I’m betting they also own the company that makes those
cardboard boxes you shove into your attic filled with seasonal crap). A card, no matter how nice of a card, is still a poor excuse for true sentiment.
We have the right to avoid pink. Some people love pink; it looks good on them, it’s stylish and it makes them look tan. I don’t care. Pink should not be worn on Valentine’s Day — it’s garish and simple-minded. You’re not in second grade anymore. It’s time to put away those cutesy outfits. The same goes for those orange-and-black witch socks you pull out on Halloween, but that’s a different column.
We have the right to eat normal-priced food on Valentine’s Day. Just because you waited three hours for a $15 dinner plate at Beppe & Gianni’s Trattoria does not mean that you had a good time. Price does not always equal romance.
And finally, we have the right to feel loved without vesting a certain day with phony romantic overtones — come this Valentine’s Day, if you have a valentine, just let them know that they are loved and maybe get them a box of those chalky heart candies.
Nuff’ said.