I love holidays. I’m that girl who bakes a dozen different types of cookies, starts listening to Christmas music in October, while running on the treadmill and spams you with text messages of insignificance: “Happy Left Handers Day!” (Yes, it’s real: August 13th, fellow Southpaws!)

But somehow, Cupid and St. Valentine have failed to entice me with their lovesick arrow because I hate Valentine’s Day. As a kid, February 14th included decorating a shoe box with 50 shades of pink, filling out themed cards for my classmates and eating multicolored candy hearts with forecasting love slogans (and discarding the awful white ones). Yet, gradually, my appreciation for such tasks diminished to an impressive degree. While I normally wouldn’t question an excuse to overindulge in milk chocolate and red wine, I also hate to participate–though I usually succumb to its deliciousness–because I am anti-V-Day for the following reasons:

1. I become a hermit to avoid this look.
I submit to locking myself in my bedroom to avoid the sympathetic head tilt paired with an obnoxious smile-smirk: aww you have no plans tonight. No, I do have plans. I have a date with Mr. Malbec and we’re definitely going all the way.

2. The incessant reminder of my relationship status.
In case I wasn’t blissfully aware: I’m single. Which, on this “holiday” is as condemned as having the plague, or something. But guess what? The single thing doesn’t bother me, so you can suck it. It’s the lack of restaurants or seats in a theater, slash going anywhere without the overdose of PDA and unwanted empathy.

3. Are you two peas in a pod?
Valentine’s Day, aka the day of drug store gifts and acceptable wine induced comas. I bet your heart skips a beat, too. Roses are red, violets are blue and this poem is unoriginal, but I love you. Oh the cliches! RIP originality on this tawdry date.Words are sexy. But seriously? The most honest way to describe your feelings for someone is via a cheesy card? So much cheese you should make some Mac and host a dinner party.



4. The pressure. The expectations. The disappointment.
I actually feel kind of bad for partners on this day. Why should love be measured in materialism? Why do we feel slightly sad when they come home with a tiny impersonal box of chocolates, a carnation and a Duane Reade receipt? Too much pressure for this non-holiday…but, damn it, there better be some chocolate with caramel inside that baby heart.



5. What, romance can’t exist all year?
Sorry, is romance dying? This is merely a reminder of the 364 days of the year when you aren’t romantic, sweet and mushy. What’s that about, hmm?

6. When I hit the Point of No Return.
The chocolate, pizza, wine combo has produced a food baby, resulting in no pants and a stomach ache. And yet all I can think about is the food I can still possibly eat before midnight strikes! Must. bake. sugar. cookies. FROSTING!

7. All of the emotions.
Where did they come from? The wine! GRAPES OF WRATH! Commence the ex-boyfriend shaming and self-loathing like a dirty rap song.

8. It haunts you.
How long will I be reminded that one year my boyfriend got me a card. And signed his name. No additional message. No terms of endearment. Just a dash with his nickname. And a semi-phallic shaped drawing. Slap in the face.

9. It means everything about the holidays is officially over
Good luck to any holiday that follows Christmas and New Years. The day champagne, cookies and Christmas tree’s are replaced by heart shaped stuffed toys and red and pink everything, reality sinks in: my favorite holiday season is officially over. Naturally, I blame you Valentine’s Day. At least St. Paddy’s is legit.

10. The awful rom coms that I can’t stop watching flood the TV.
They are so bad. And yet, somehow, I must watch the entire movie. And it’s sequel.