What’s up with holidays that are about forced merrymaking? A Valentine’s Day rant.

Nothing  wrong with celebrating love, but come on, what actually is Valentine’s Day?  I mean no one is celebrating St. Valentine, right? I know the story about St. Valentine.  I was the advisor to a middle school newspaper in which kiddos wrote about the history every year.  But I don’t think bloody and gory history is what people have in mind when they’re trying to figure out where to take their paramour for dinner.  It’s such an odd “holiday”. We feel compelled to celebrate if we are in a relationship, or we feel sad, depressed, and lonely if we aren’t?  I mean what the fuck kind of holiday is that?  And I know you can spend it or celebrate with any loved one or your gal-pals for Galentine’s Day, but can’t you celebrate them on any random day? Why does it have to be all wrapped up in some corporate, overconsumption, shitty chocolate and overpriced flowers bullshit?  Yeah, sometimes I can be a curmudgeon.  It’s not love I’m opposed to, it’s just the fake, forced hullaballoo.

I used to like Valentine’s Day. Even when I didn’t have a Valentine. For some reason when I think of Valentine’s Day I always think of cinnamon- like those little tiny heart shaped cinnamon imperial heart candies. Freaking loved those things. As an aside, I used to be a sugar-holic. I could and would eat any kind of cinnamon candy, like Red Hots and cinnamon jelly hearts.  I could also eat an entire box of Russell Stover chocolates in one sitting. No kidding. The thought of it now makes me kind of sick, lol.  

Another reason I used to like Valentine’s Day is because at one time my favorite color was red.  Like Revlon Red.  Va va va voom red.  Like, fuck-me red.  I’m still drawn to it but have discovered that it’s not really my color.  I look better in blue.

In the late seventies and early eighties it was fashionable in this un-hip area of the country to own a white cotton turtleneck with little tiny red hearts all over it and you had to wear it on Valentine’s Day. If you had one you were popular.  Or popular adjacent. Or just into whatever you thought would make you appear popular, lol. They sold them at a variety of places but the coolest place to get one when I was in seventh grade was the ski shop at the little tiny ski resort where I learned to ski at Tuesday night ski club.  I begged my parents for the money to buy one and of course they indulged me. It was also a sign of status to have one.  At least until everyone could get one from JC Penney, lol.  The other sign of Valentine worthy status when I was in high school in the 80s was how many roses were delivered to you in your homeroom the morning of Valentine’s Day.  The student council sold roses as a way of raising funds.  Because us Gen X gals were conditioned to want to be chosen by boys, if you did not receive any roses you felt ugly and unloved. I don’t know why we didn’t realize that we could send them to ourselves or our friends, but it would take another whole generation to figure that shit out.  For some reason I received a bunch of roses in eleventh grade from a couple guys. I have no idea how that happened. I guess some boys finally liked me. But it’s kind of embarrassing now to admit how much I liked carrying around those damned roses. If anyone who sent me those flowers happens to be reading this, and I doubt they are, thanks. You made me feel happy. Sorry if I was weird about it.  

It’s so funny because I can remember exactly what I wore to school on Valentine’s Day in 1983. Black fishnet stockings. I loved wearing fishnet stockings and I had them in every color: lime green, dark green, light blue, black, hot pink, red.  Fucking loved them.  A classmate made fun of me for wearing them. She told me that it looked like I had mold on my legs or some bitchy thing like that. They were fucking cool.  I was cool but I didn’t even know it.  I just knew what I liked. I hope she has finally learned to love herself so she doesn’t have to give people shit for wearing what they love. A n y way, I also wore a black corduroy flared mini-skirt that I adored, an oversized red wool v-neck sweater, and the cutest little pair of mini-heeled patent leather pumps with cute little cutouts and bows on each vamp. I got them at Hills Department Store.  Remember Hills? Hills is where the toys are.  Or where they used to be in the 80s anyway.  I am a lunatic for remembering what I wore to school on Valentine’s Day over forty years ago.  But I have a bizarre memory and I love clothes, so….

I have been in relationships for more Valentine’s Days than I have not.  And for many years loved ones’ birthdays were either on or a day or two from VD.  So there were always birthday activities intertwined with the holiday and that made it fun. But with every relationship, whether it was new, serious, long term or not, there was still always some weirdness about what to do, where to go, how to celebrate, what to buy. At least if you’re in a new relationship you probably have one thing on your mind and you get to it as soon as possible. But even then there’s an odd sense of pressure to perform, in any and all ways.  Is that just me? Does anyone else have these ridiculous conundrums?  Do y’all celebrate? Low key? Big deal? Not at all? 

At one time a past friend invited me to her Galentine’s Day parties, before Galentine’s day was a thing, in another city.  It was fun.  Something to look forward to. And then I started having little get-togethers myself.  I always liked to entertain.  I always liked to bake and decorate so I own a shit-ton of Valentine’s Day decorations.  I still put some up, just not as many, and every year fewer.  And I have a ridiculous amount of Valentine’s Day cookie cutters, lol! I suppose that falling in the middle of winter, especially if you live in northern climes, Valentine’s Day gives people something to look forward to when it’s cold, dark, and snowy and a way to deal with the residual letdown from Christmas and the New Year goings on.

Love songs and Valentine’s Day go together, right?  When you’re young, you listen to love songs and think that love is going to be just like the lyrics describe.  They deeply  imprint your psyche with visions of ecstasy and longing and divine union.  Neil Young’s lyrics in Harvest Moon, The Beach Boys’ God Only Knows, The Cure’s Lovesong. Elvis Presley, Etta James.  They all created romantic images in our heads and hearts. Or the opposite.  Lost love.  Heartache. Think Dolly Parton and I Will Always Love You, Patsy Cline’s Crazy, Ella Fitgerald singing Cry Me a River. The highest highs, the lowest lows.  When I was at my lowest due to an unrequited love it was music that helped heal me over the few months it took me to get over him.  And looking back, he was not even worthy of my energy but I was young and foolish. Romance. Or heartbreak.  Hurt. Pain. The truth is that you have to deal with both at times and decide to live somewhere in the middle, to sit with both the love and the hurt and reconcile that it’s all part of the human condition.  Maybe that’s what we should get out of celebrating, or at least recognising Valentine’s Day. And maybe reconciling those conflicting feelings helps us to love ourselves more.  That’s what I’ve been working on the last two years.  Trying to love myself unconditionally.  Damn, it’s fucking hard.  And maybe that’s why I have a love/hate relationship with VD.  

Your thoughts?  After this silly rant, I guess it’s ok to celebrate VD. Do it any way you wish, or not.  But be sure to fit in some self-love, ‘cuz you can’t spread love if you don’t love yourself.  I suggest eating chocolate, listening to your favorite music, dancing your ass off, maybe wearing some fishnet stockings and a mini-skirt. And definitely holding loved ones close.