I have reasonably fond memories of Valentine’s Day from my elementary school days. Craft projects with doilies. Decorating pink and red construction paper hearts. Exchanging enormous quantities of little cutesie valentine cards with all the other kids in class. Eating little candy hearts.
I don’t remember when our relationship went sour, mine and Valentine’s Day. I don’t think we had a fight. And Valentine’s Day didn’t exactly run out on me. I think it’s more that we just grew apart as I got older.
Elementary school days passed into junior high days, and Valentine’s Day stopped bringing me those special treats. No more craft projects or bags full of valentines. The little candy hearts lost their magic.
Those were awkward times.
Then came high school, and suddenly Valentine’s Day was all about the pressure. All Valentine’s Day pretended to care about was romance. And while Valentine’s Day was off having romantic interludes with so many other girls in my school, I was left feeling lonely. Rejected. I wasn’t getting the cards and flowers, or the heart-shaped boxes of candy. It was hard to believe that we’d ever had that connection, Valentine’s Day and me.
Perhaps it was then that bitterness set in. Followed by jaded cynicism. I knew that Valentine’s Day was shallow, all about greeting card sentimentality. Valentine’s Day pretended to care, to be about love. But really, it was all just for show. I knew Valentine’s Day was full of crap.
Little candy hearts courtesy of ACME heart maker.
This post is being submitted to the //engtech monthly contest, under the topic “why I hate Valentine’s Day.”