Adventures in Dating Land

Happy Valentine’s Day!- AKA $%&^ You, Single Nation!

Posted on: February 14, 2009

February 14th. The dreaded holiday for 41% of unwedded Americans aged 18 and older. All day, we are surrounded by boxes of chocolates, roses, and heart shaped trinkets…yet not a one of these is coming our way.

Even if we escape to the confines of our home, we are not safe. Television commercials of diamond jewelery and flower stores parade across our eyes, tormenting our psyches.

There is nowhere to turn until the blessed February 15th, when the madness ends.

Who thought UP this holiday, anyway? I did a little researching, just to track down the madman who founded this nightmare of pink and red. There’s a very good description that I found from the Vancouver Sun here: http://www2.canada.com/vancouversun/news/editorial/story.html?id=5574aadc-f81d-4462-930d-c89570f021b6.

It appears that the history of this “joyous” celebration of romanticism is actually riddled with violence and gore, or at least the Christian tradition goes. The Pagan version is filled with pornography and, well, paganism. Certainly a good read for anyone feeling bitter about the Hallmark debauchery of this once brutal and vicious day.

But even if you’re dating someone, (I imagine) it would still be an uncomfortable holiday. In my past experience of celebrating Valentine’s, I always felt uncomfortable talking to friends about my plans when they were single. Knowing what it felt like to have someone unconsciously rub their happy coupledom in your face, I never wanted to parade my own bliss around. Which is exactly what this day celebrates. It’s a more mature version of “nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah” when it comes to being in a relationship.

While I sit on the single side of the fence, many of my friends do not. And while they’re off doing various displays of coupled affections, I do wish them well. However, I can wish all the complete strangers on my path to be struck by lightning.

So, for all you single people out there, like myself, have a drink, blast “Love Stinks” on your radio, and just remember, only seven more hours until it’s all over. For this year, anyways.

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