Valentine’s Day more sour than sweet

In my 26-years on this earth, I have only ever celebrated Valentine’s Day for the two that I had a significant other. All the rest of my years have been spent scowling at the candy heart boxes that show-up halfway through January at the grocery store check out line reminding me of my single status. And dreading the question that accompanies this time of year, “Do you have a Valentine?” My immediate response, which, by admission is usually said simultaneously following an eye roll is, “No, I never do.”

The psychology behind Valentine’s Day has bothered me since my grade school years, where I was taught that my affections for another person could be determined solely by a singular arrow being shot into me by a grown man wearing a diaper. Whoa. As disturbing as the imagery of that is it’s nowhere near as disconcerting as a kid staying up nights wondering if she was destined to be one of Cupid’s chosen ones. At that age, all that meant was more candy and Disney Valentines in my designated cubby.

But now, Valentine’s Day has taken on a life of it’s own. There’s even a movie dedicated to those few hopeless romantics that believe there’s something magical about this fourteenth day of February. And while I do belong to the female species, I think I lack a certain girly-ness that comes along with subscribing to V-Day, Cupid and pre-destined love theories.

In truth, I do think that the idea of showing your “significant other” significantly more attention than normal on one day of the year while pouring on terms of endearment and boxes of chocolates in excess is a little cheesy.

Am I the only person who believes that small gestures of affection throughout the relationship go a long way? A text here, a few stolen smiling glances and a little old school note passing in class could preserve that stupid silly smirk you see on the faces of those Valentine’s couples, year-long.

But what about the rest of us? As previously stated, I am single and for the most part, I am happy to be. Between working full-time, going to school full-time, being an editor for this paper and reminding myself to breathe, I’m not sure I could fit in any more “significant” distractions. Still, I approach February 14 the same way I have for as long as I can remember. I wake up, get dressed, have my morning coffee and try like hell not to notice all the overt gestures of love being poured out amongst the masses around me.

I’m a simple girl. I love my sports, my dancing and my single status. But on the off chance that cupid’s quivering arrow strikes me by surprise and I find myself approaching February 14 with nervous anticipation and excitement. I’ll remind myself of one thing, I was already significant, all on my own. As for the rest, that’s just the sugary-sweet icing on top.