Ugh, Valentine’s Day.
I have never been a fan of the red ballooned holiday, even after being in a relationship for almost 6 years.
My despise for the holiday dates back to elementary school when my mom would make embarrassing Valentine’s Day cards with my face plastered in the center of a handcrafted, glittery red heart. All the students would be prancing around class placing their little gifts in one another’s card baskets. I would cringe as I would see the little fingers wrapped around the stamped paper with the little “made with love” personalized stamp marked at the back of every card. I could hear the “Aw’s” from the teacher’s assistant as she held hers up for all to see (as if everyone did not have one already) I stared at the goofy, crooked teethed smile of the acting headshot photo my mother chose to plaster on every card, and stuffed my face with heart shaped Chocolates.
Now fast forward to high school, I was a meek book worm with a 4.0 and a camera glued to my hand. Everyone in the school knew me as “Yearbook Girl.” Not a bad title I might say as many of my friends had much worse. As the blood red holiday rolled around once more my friends and I would be tortured with the big bouquets of flowers smashing us in the face in every hallway. As “yearbook girl” it was my job to document every holiday in the school. So inevitably I had to speak to every girl with hot pink MAC lipstick rubbed against her lips about how she adores her boyfriend, the “love of her life!” She would gush about the tasty chocolates and the morning serenade he preformed for her in the quad. I tried hard not to roll my eyes as I recall her boyfriend swapping saliva with an unidentified girl in the shadows of the auditorium. But, that wasn’t my place to say anything. After the brief interview I would take a cliche photo of her smacking a big, pink, kiss, smack dab on his cheek. “Thank’s for your time! Have a wonderful Valentine’s day!” Once my quote book was full and my camera battery dead, my BFF and I would run to my house, buy HUGE burritos, fries and a banana split and stuff our faces while watching some overly exagerated chick flick, complaining about not having cute boyfriends.
Now it’s February 14th of 2016, and I’m just scrolling through Instagram and all I see is the boasting pictures of an inexpierienced couple with their plastered smiles and their extravagant roses. It could possibly be the torturous Valentine’s day cards of my elementary days or my sour outlook of love in High School, but I still cannot tolerate the fabricated love that Valentines Day brings. Like I have embedded in my fiancés brain, “do not spoil me on Valentine’s Day”. If you love me, it should not be conserved for only one day of the year, but every day! I am not talking about breakfast in bed on a Monday and flowers every Tuesday, but little reminders here and there that I’m still on your mind. Call me bitter if you may, but I swear if one more person asks me what I did on Valentines day I might just be signing up for anger management in result of smacking them on the head.