As Valentine's Day is nearing, I can't help but feel agitated. Once again, I am left all alone Bridget Jones style (pre-Darcy, of course). I tell myself I don't care.. and I really shouldn't. Has anything good ever really happened to me on Valentine's day? A quick look back on the most memorable.. or the only memorable February 14th's of my sad, non-existent love life:
Sixth grade: No one wants to be outwardly admired in sixth grade-- not when the boys still have booger noses and cooties are running amuck. Unfortunately, it was my special day. Somebody liked me. I walked into the cafeteria that fateful day unaware of what was waiting for me. I was not only nauseatingly embarrassed when I heard those five awful words, but I seriously considered drowning myself in my pudding cup. The dreaded words were "I LOVE YOU, BROOKE THOMAS!" A fourth grader named Michael had not only said it, he screamed it as he was walking into the cafeteria. What was wrong with kids in the 90s? A handwritten note would have been sufficient.
Eighth grade: Eighth grade wasn't my best year. I was still trying to figure out how I should dress and style my hair. I was obviously completely uncomfortable in my own body and totally sure everyone could see that. Additionally, my conversational skills with boys during this time were severely lacking. So what did I say when someone I didn't know marched up to my locker with a rose and a box of chocolates for Valentine's day? "Uhhh.. thank you? I think.." What I really wanted to say was, "Okay, I already feel weird enough. Why would you do this to me? You should go now." Worse yet, I was disappointed that it wasn't from my crush that I obsessively drooled over day after day. I won't lie-- I was completely undeserving. That was the second heart I broke on Valentine's day.
Freshman year of college: I actually had a boyfriend this time. Considering the fact that up until this point my commitment-phobic personality had led me to dump every boyfriend I had ever had within two weeks, I thought I was doing pretty well for myself even if he treated me like absolute crap. How disappointing was it to get dumped only a few days after a very mediocre Valentine's day by a boy that I should've kicked to the curb months ago? It was actually pretty devastating. Was I deserving? Karma thought so.
Where am I going with this?
Valentine's Day and I simply do not mesh. The only attention I have ever received on that special day has been humiliating to me in one way or another, though most times these little actions were meant to make my day, not ruin it. Maybe it's because I am so dang selective (and wrongfully so) when it comes to relationships or maybe I'm a spinster-in-the-making by nature, but either way, this day brings nothing but anger and angst for me. I find myself wanting to shoot cupid down from the heavens above and feeling a nasty sense of satisfaction watching him fall. At least one of us has good aim.
For a really long time, when I still wanted to be a doctor, I saw myself happy being single forever. A change in career just means that I'll have more time on my hands to think about it. More time is good. I like to crochet. I like cats.
[photos from google.com]
2 comments:
Sheesh this dead cupid image has been popular on the blogs this year! I wonder how did cupid manage to shoot himself in the back with his own arrow, unless there was a Cupette who shot him? Maybe she was mad at him for getting everyone else together and ignoring her? These are the important questions folks.
I have no doubt that a cupette has been collaborating to do just that!
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