When I picked Ethan up from his dad’s this weekend, he yelled, “Yes! It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow!”
Valentine’s Day, she ain’t what she used to be.
Ethan and his dad prepared a lovely set of valentines for E’s classmates and I taped peppermint patties to the envelopes. I couldn’t help but think of the Peppermint Patty of “Peanuts” fame, her unknowing lesbian icon status, and just how heteronormative this particular holiday is.
For the holiday I got Ethan a new book for his LeapPad and his own set of headphones since he loves mine so much. My valentine is getting a slew of vagina-shaped chocolates sold on campus for the Vagina Monologues charity and a set of coupons I modeled after the Onion’s suggestions. I got myself a quiet night at home with meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
V-day on twenty dollars or less. Cheapskate ahoy!
I’m not a big fan of these pedestrian holidays, or most holidays, and Valentine’s Day has always been shadowed by my nearby birthday. Luckily I have birthday plans this year, a night of bowling and dinner with E and E’s dad, another dinner out with my parents, and perhaps another dinner this upcoming weekend with friends and the pseudo-boyfriend. It’s about time. After my 21st birthday disappointment wherein I was living with and fighting with the parents badly enough that the two week long silence was only ended with a half-assed rendition of “Happy Birthday To You,” I figured the birthday excitement of my youth was over.
I’d rather think of Valentine’s Day itself as a massacre of another sort: hearts, relationships, and unrequited love slayed as easily as gangsters with guns hanging in a garage on February afternoon. Disappointment, really, and not because I feel left out of the holiday or anything, but that people so invest their relationships and self-worth into this holiday that most are disappointed. And thus, I am disappointed in them for being so ridiculous.
In the meantime, Amanda better illustrates my point and offers a bit of advice on how to avoid that V-Day malaise.