If you’ve ever met me, you know I hate Valentine’s Day. There are a lot of reasons for this, and I doubt I really need to list them. I mean, if you’re reading this you have an Internet connection, you can go read other people rant about how Hallmark doesn’t own love and you shouldn’t have to spend money on a girl for her to understand that you care about her. (Because yes, perhaps my biggest problem with Valentine’s Day is the One Way street sign it seems to have plastered to its face. Woe betide the man who forgets to buy his woman chocolate. But what’s up with the chick who tries to buy a guy some flowers? Gender stereotype abound, and nothing gets me more irritated than that.)
Hardly anyone believes me when I say this, but I actually hate Valentine’s Day more when I’m in a relationship, because there’s this inescapable expectation that somehow we must not only do something “special” and buy each other things to celebrate Hallmark’s profit earnings but that we might just even love each other more on February 14 than we did on February 13 or will on February 15. Also, the gender stereotype thing. There have been some interesting conversations with significant others. “No, really. I do. not. want. flowers. I do not want chocolate. I do not want ANYTHING. This is not a trick. Buy me flowers and die.” Ask them, they’ll tell you.
So today was actually kind of nice. I haven’t been on a date in several months, haven’t kissed a guy in over a year, had a serious relationship in over three or been in love in over six. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, six years. Valentine’s Day was not only joyously irrelevant to me this year, but a bare shadow of a memory.
Given how much free time I have on my hands, I decided to assign myself a full courseload. Remedial Calc, Economics, French, and Things I Really Should Have Learned in College But Somehow Didn’t. I got a surprisingly amount of studying done. I will take implicit differentiation and the six sigma method of quality control over sappy love songs and heart shaped chocolate boxes any day of the week. (Which really is saying a lot, because while calculus is cool and useful, six sigma is hardly captivating.)
And now, just a few minutes before the day is officially over, enjoy the following ballad of love.
I think I remember getting you something once, and having you assault me because of it. Good times. Screw flowers, girls should get guys chocolate for V-day, because (srsly) who doesn’t like chocolate? I wish I had some chocolate rite nao. Stupid V-day.