Tuesday, February 14, 2006

V.D.

I had a completely non-Valentine's-Day-related post planned for today, a real one, with lots of words (some of them big) and witty observations (some of them mean), and not just photos from my phone (some of them bad), but, well, it didn't happen. So here are some links:

Pamie's Eighth Annual Valentine's Day Poems

Single Girl Valentines


If it seems like I'm down on Valentine's Day, it's because I am. And no, nothing horrible has happened to me and Boy, but if I suddenly reversed my position on something I've hated my whole life now that I have a fabulous boyfriend, it wouldn't really be fair, would it? I mean, it wouldn't be sudden, we've been together for almost 5 years, but you know what I mean. I basically don't approve of the idea that Hallmark gets to tell us when and how to express our love for one another, meanwhile making single people feel pressure to...well, not be single.

It's hardly a new or original argument, but here's a specific example that's got my feathers ruffled at the moment: A friend of mine has an annual sort of hipster/ironic Valentine's Day party, and this year it's actually today instead of the nearest Saturday. And today, in case you're reading this in an archive in the future (are there flying cars and microscopic iPods yet?) and don't remember, is Tuesday. Since I'm not on a theater schedule these days, I asked what the deal was with that when I got the Evite. The friend, who recently broke up with her boyfriend, said, "Because if I don't have something to do on Valentine's Day I might kill myself."

What the hell kind of holiday is that?? Holidays should be FUN. Okay, maybe not Yom Kippur. Fun or spiritual. A holiday that goes out of its way to make people feel like shit is not one I want to celebrate, even though I'm fortunate enough to have a fabulous boyfriend (did I mention he's fabulous?). And then all these people have the nerve to answer the Evite with notes like "Sorry, I have a date." Nice, people, really fucking nice. So this may well be the saddest party ever. Fortunately the friend lives very close to me so I can go and help her not be too depressed or bitter and still get to bed at a reasonable hour. But it all seems a little wrong to me.

Plus, my mom insists on giving me (and now Boy too) chocolate every year. And I eat it, 'cause, y'know, free chocolate, but even as a child it struck me as kinda Oedipal.

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