Valentine's Day. Hate it or love it. Your stores will force you to respect its presence in pop culture.
The married person ends up treating it like any other day and the single person wants to be wined and dined with red balloons and whatnot. Valentine's Day is a vehicle in which people think that the grass is greener on the other side.
A commercial holiday should not be the determining factor of whether you are happy with your relationship status. Not your relationship with another person either. Your relationship with yourself. Love isn't how you feel about someone else, it starts with feelings of self that are imposed or projected by expression of feelings toward another person. I learned this once I started to analyze my Valentine's Days and learned that how I celebrated them really was a direct indicator of how I viewed myself whether single or in a relationship.
Let's go down Memory Lane, shall we? Feel free to laugh at me if you'd like. I laugh at myself so please join in.
Ever since first grade, I've dreaded Valentine's Day. Not because I was pathetic and couldn't grab the interest of anyone. That's never been an issue. Even with my bushy hair, ashen complexion and (back then) my hot pink bifocals I caught an admirer or two (I know, it's amazing to me too). It was more the pressure that came with the day that made it awkward for me. How your worth or attractiveness/love was put on a scale to be weighed. The more cards you got, the more desired you were thought to be. This would later on fuel my thought that "hotness" was measured by the number of suitors attempting to pursue you at any given point in time opposed to actually just being confident in yourself.
Remember back in the day when you passed around those Valentine's Day cards but only to your BFFs and you might have gotten bold enough to sneak one in your crush's desk/coat pocket/locker? This was before schools made you give EVERYONE a card so no one felt left out. Pansies! Or better yet, the cards were anonymous so you spent the whole day trying to figure out who liked you. Usually the creepy looks you were given while eating your snacks started the investigation. If every time you looked up there was a little fellow smiling at you, he was probably the card culprit.
...and there you have it...your "Valentine". Cute right?
Doesn't work like that once you go to middle school. It gets real. People start talking about having feelings and they actually kiss with tongue!!! I learned this the hard way because my first kiss was during class while playing truth or dare, we had a substitute (this alone makes me dread the day my daughter enrolls in school). That "kiss" was the most unromantic, nerve-wrecking thing you can think of. I literally thought we would peck and be done. Nope. When did it become customary in America to French kiss?! The only thing I wanted French was my fries. My disdain for PDA started around this time too for obvious reasons.
Then the boys started strutting around asking "Can I have a chance?" A chance at what?! Not to court me for real because neither one of us could even drive. I guess it was a chance at a small scale relationship. Whatever, I wasn't opposed to having you carry my books to class or sitting next to you at lunch. Just keep your tongue in YOUR mouth and buy me a snack from the a la carte line. For a girl who had reduced lunch ($.40 opposed to the $1 and some change some people paid according to household income), that was the equivalent of a dozen roses. Get me an iced honeybun and we're practically joined for life.
Now back to this smooching thing. It became the standard. In middle school, Valentine's Day was a great point of anxiety for me because your "boo" would want a kiss and just your luck everyone in your class would see it and whisper about it later. My fears were germs and that word would somehow get back to my Mama. Mama was the neighborhood candy lady so everybody knew where I lived and if someone wanted to be petty, they could come buy some snacks and rat me out on the low.
For that reason, I would literally time my gift-exchange at school so that in the hallway all we had was enough time to exchange gifts and the bell could ring right after so I'd have to jet to my next class.
I thought that having a "boyfriend" would make this whole Valentine's Day thing easier. Little did I know it was just pressure in another way. I was guaranteed a gift/attention from someone but so much was expected in return even at such a young age. Why can't I just get my little CVS teddy bear with attached assorted chocolates and be done with it? Doesn't work like that. If a boy gets you sweets, he wanted some sugar...which brings me to my next span of time...high school.
My high school experience described in one word was "huh?!". I learned just how naïve I was when it came to love and the like (see what I did there). In my mind, if we like each other, we should just go together. Sadly it didn't go that smoothly, hormones made everyone like everyone and just your luck the guy you liked probably liked your friend more. I can't remember how many times a guy found out I had a crush on them and when they walked over to me in the hallway they asked, "What's good with your girl _______?". Ouch. Cold little high school boy, real cold. I guess it is fitting that Valentine's Day is in February *shakes fist*.
To the decent guys worth dating, I was considered just one of the guys OR a great friend. Man, I don't want to be your friend. Buy me some chocolates or something! I even practiced that whole French kiss thing and I'll kiss you if you don't tell anyone. Can we do that? No? Okay, I'll just go back to Friendzone where it's safe.
What I didn't know is that my personality made me "safe" and in high school dudes wanted the girls that were bold and ready to take it to the next level if you catch my drift. I was proud of JUST perfecting how to kiss and you have chicks in there getting knocked up. I guess my little accomplishment wasn't much. I was too scared of my Mama and what people thought of me to get loose. I can't lie, the loose life did look fun but I left it to the professionals. My conscience talked too much maybe even more than my peers and with track practice and an accelerated academic schedule I simply didn't have the time to be whoring.
I was able to snag a guy for the majority of my high school experience though and that relationship was the biggest waste of time, especially as far as Valentine's Day was concerned. His gifts and romantic gestures were only to distract me from the fact that he was Valentine-ing all around town with other girls. Yes, I got the teddy bears and even some expensive electronics but there were no receipts for the emotional and physical scars. Valentine's Day was only one day in a year but the rest of the 364 went unaccounted for. So this made me wonder if guys thought they could treat you like crap the other days but if they had a little change in their pocket to get you a decent gift, it was enough to get off on good behavior. Valentine's Day became a romantic Yom Kippur. For my suitor, it was his day of atonement, a chance to right the wrongs of yesterday...so he thought.
My best Valentine's Day was spent eating great food, watching a comedy in a dorm room with no pressure for sex. Doesn't take much to make me happy.
It was almost a little TOO perfect. Ahh yes, of course it was. The night was cut short by my roommate who came in crying about how her Valentine's Day wasn't up-to-par, so being the sap I am I apologized to my Valentine for having to end the night and told him I'd call him later because my roommate needed me. The abruptness of that Valentine's Day was a stone in the pond to ripple and ruin the Valentine's Days to come. Following that one, they all ended up being meager attempts to be better than the last one, only to be even more terrible in the end. These dudes were up all night to get lucky and I was just trying to make love to these chocolates. Don't get it twisted, by this time I wasn't a virgin anymore and had become a little more experienced, however a good day did not equate to a great night. Takes more work than that, my vagina has standards and makes good choices.
Now I'm married and I'm back to the dinner and maybe a movie formula, which I like and actually works for me. However, Valentine's Day still doesn't go off without a hitch. I either get a migraine, diarrhea, or some other random ailment that prevents me from enjoying the day/night in full.
I believe it was the great Andre Benjamin who so eloquently professed, "Happy Valentine's Day, every day is the fourteenth". It took me observing my patterns of this day for the past twenty years and a song on The Love Below album to finally get it. If you love everyday (yourself and others) then there is no pressure to have to do it "effectively" on Valentine's Day. I've learned to love me single or attached so that no matter the significant other, the activity of celebration or caliber of gift it is still just another day.
...but to the ladies and men who can only spend the fifteenth with their "love", you might want to start asking some questions. Just saying.
Love (or like),
Cam
