For this Valentine’s Day, we asked you to share your weirdest, worst and most WTF moments from V’days past. We’ll post them through Valentine’s Day, then have readers vote on whose story is the best (well, best-worst) and the winner will receive an amazing Pacifica prize pack. For contest guidelines and details on the prize, click here! You can read all the entries here.

I had been dating “Matt” for about eight months when Valentine’s Day rolled around. He was tall, handsome, and shared a few key interests with me, which at 19 years old was just about all I needed in a relationship.

This particular Valentine’s Day, in lieu of a “boring” simple dinner, I decided to go all-out in my planning. I landed on a day trip to a zoo a few hours away, and Matt agreed it would be a fun date. I prepared myself for what was sure to be the Best Valentine’s Day Ever. (Oh, teenage optimism.)

Looking back, there were clues that day that Matt was feeling…off. While usually very sweet and considerate, this day he was, for lack of a better term, a butthead.

Instead of waiting for me to descend a long staircase slowly (I had an injured knee), he laughed at my speed and sprinted to the bottom, then tapped his toe and huffed impatiently while I finished carefully limping down. When I snapped a photo of him in front of the baby giraffes—a sight that should fill anyone with happiness and warm fuzzies—he gave a painful wince of a smile. At one point he told me that I smelled terrible. After a sneaky armpit/breath check, I responded that I smelled fine, and was it perhaps the aroma of monkey poop from the cage he was standing next to that stank? (Spoiler: it was.)

Still, I thought we could salvage the crummy day with a ride in the skyway boxes that traveled over the zoo before we left. While waiting in the long line, I finally asked what was wrong with him today. He turned away and answered, “Can we please not talk about this right now?” My stomach dropped as it finally hit me.

“You’re going to break up with me, aren’t you?”


Matt explained his reasoning—declining interest in me and a desire to “live up” his college experience—while I broke into uncontrollable high-pitched sobs and our neighbors in line tried their best to avert their eyes. Yes, we were “that couple.”

I cried the whole 2 ½ hours home, at which point Matt handed me my (non-returnable) Valentine’s Day gift: a sterling silver necklace, with little cubic zirconia in the shape of a circle. I looked up at him with what was probably murder in my eyes.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“It’s a necklace.”

“It’s a freaking eternity necklace. You give it to symbolize that you’ll love that person forever.”


Shit indeed. Needless to say, the rest of my evening involved a hot bath and crying into ice cream like a sad cliché.

The story has a happy ending, though. Today Matt and I are on good terms, and he has since apologized profusely for his terrible timing. I, in turn, have accepted that maybe a simple dinner is an okay Valentine’s date after all.