Ode to Valentine’s Day

Oh Valentine’s Day, dreadful day or should this be a day that singles band together? Should we ladies have planned a “single is okay” pitty party and drank the night away?

Should the men have a male bonding gathering expressing their happiness at being single and avoiding the budget-busting spend-a-thon?

My sweet Valentine’s Day, here is what I felt when thinking of you.

Days before: Eyes watering from overstocked selections of flowers. Red damn near everywhere, and the store display wizards going overboard making hearts out of everything.
My brain cells are going crazy seeing all of the chocolate. Being inside any store was pure torture. How about that greeting card aisle? A mess, cards strewn everywhere, I’m just there to get one for my kid, excuse me lady, can I squeeze in here??

I chuckle at the women taking way too long browsing over the “Someone Special” section, while the men scan quickly, pick one up in 10 seconds, shrug then walk away with their find.

My sweet Valentine, all of the pressure, planning and stressing for this one day. This man made day, commercialism at it’s worst. The day you force men and women to act right and redeem themselves. Maybe the man gets a little head tonight, maybe the woman gets a well deserved trinket. All of this for one day?

Alas, your day has arrived and in my mind, I can’t wait for it to be over.

I hear it being said in the halls, overhear people saying it to customers over the phone, almost like they are singing it. “Happy Valentine’s Day”. I see women walking back to their desks with the overpriced flower arrangements or balloons.

And then it really starts. Several coworkers ask me if my special guy has special plans for me. F@*k you is what comes to mind. I’m not bitter, just annoyed at hearing it.

Finally! The day winds down and I figure the grocery store should be back to normal. WRONG. Men who waited until 6pm to get the clearance bouquet and leftover cards flock to the lines. I even saw one man plop down bananas, strawberries and whip cream. Damn, now THAT is what I’m talking about, to hell with flowers.

Sigh.

Home at last sweet Valentine’s Day, I survived the day being a single woman. But dammit, it still doesn’t end. Now the texts and phone calls begin. The assumptions that I’m out having a great time with a great guy.

Yeah, great guy alright, his name is Mr. Blackberry.

This is my ode to you Valentine’s Day.