I love Valentine’s Day. I really do. I KNOW it’s a Hallmark holiday. I get it. I don’t care.
It’s all mushy hearts and flowers and even though I practice being a tough bitch on the outside, I am really quite romantic and sensitive on the inside. I want the flowers at work; the romantic dinner; the box of chocolates; the serenading at my window (not by you creepy weird guy); the blah blah vomit blah. I want it all! I want to feel like a fairytale princess who has just met her prince on but one day per year. What the fuck is wrong with that? (Can you say fuck when you are talking about love?).
But nooooooo. As I’ve had the audacity to harbour this love for Valentine’s Day in my heart for fucking years the universe has conspired to ensure I never get to enjoy it. I once dated a guy on and off for 5 years and we had this really nifty thing going where we’d break up right around Christmas and patch it up just after V Day. Of course. Talk about fabulous timing. Interesting pattern there though.
I do remember, one time, centuries ago, where I had a boyfriend on V Day and we did go out to dinner. We had been super busy and hadn’t had time to go out and get cards before the actual day. We had his super cute daughter for the day (she was still quite small and in a pram) and I remember we went to the shops and I waited with the pram (and the cute kid, I’m not an idiot) while he went to purchase the card and then we did swapsies. When we rocked up on the night we swiftly handed our cards over and tore into them at the same time…only to find we had bought each other the same card.
Ahhhh now if that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is.
(It wasn’t. I even tried dating him again 13 years later. It wasn’t. But it makes a nice story.)
What about you? What do you think of V Day?
This rant has been brought to you by the Daily Prompt’s Weekly Writing Challenge: My Funny Valentine?