Happy Valentines Day, Internet

It’s February 14. That means it’s Valentines Day.* A holiday both adored and reviled by the young and old alike. Some people loathe it, other people ignore it, and some people embrace it.
*I spell it this way on purpose, guys. It’s not Saint Valentine’s Day anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. It’s a day to celebrate Valentines. Ergo, Valentines Day.  

<3

I clearly put lots of effort into making my Valentine for you. You are _welcome._

I’m one of the embracers, guys. And I’m not ashamed of it. But I don’t embrace it because I think I’m somehow owed flowers and tokens of love today because I just so happen to be female.** I think people lose their minds around this time of year – the same way people lose their minds on Black Friday and spend a whole day trampling each other in stores instead of spending a post-feast day relaxing with their families.
**How is that fair, anyway? How did Valentines Day turn into some affection-test for guys? Who was in charge of that nonsense? Can’t we just relax, people? Why does this aside involve so many questions?

I like to present a front that I have no time for love anymore in my life. I’m an independent woman, after all, single and in my 20s. TV tells me I should be a champion of everything.

'cause the face is busy being bitter...

I’m also a child who grew up in the 90s. I’m super good at “talk to the hand.”

That’s not really the real me, though. I come from a home that has always been full of love. My parents loved me and my brother endlessly, and never skimped on affection. They also love each other – a fact that I’ve never had to question, ever. They’re loving and affectionate and sometimes they even flirt. Frequently, there is cuddling.***
***All of this is, of course, accompanied by obligatory “ew, you made me, stop that, gross, parents” faces from me.****
****You’re welcome, Mom and Dad.

So despite pretending to be a cold-hearted monster without concern for love, what I really am in someone who wants to find the perfect partner. I want, in the longterm, the kind of relationship I see in my parents. Ew-faces aside, I’m a pretty lucky girl to have grown up in a household like that.

This is what REALLY causes heart attacks

Which coincidentally resulted in me actually being a lot more like this.

This has led to some issues along the way. I’m not exactly talented when it comes to picking romantic partners. This tendency has further fostered my posturing as a coldhearted, aloof girl, destined for a future full of cats.

But the point remains: I firmly believe in love. And I believe in Valentines Day. Not because it’s a test of someone’s love for you – and how well they can show it on demand – but because it’s a great time to do something that makes you happy.

Frequently, I am single on Valentines Day. That tendency is actually what drove me to embrace it.

Last year, with the help of a fellow single friend – who we shall call The Hero of the South (THotS, which is pronounced “Thhhhh-oates” as of this very moment) – Valentines Day was celebrated with style. We dressed up. We high-fived. We got drinks.

I am so giving today

Hi THotS. You know who you are. And you know you were never going to get a vote in your blog-name. _You’re welcome._

Most importantly, we went out for ribs.

Ribs. RIBS. Delicious ribs.

That lady is a waitress. I think she was scared of us.

Most people can’t bring themselves to go out for ribs on a romantic holiday, because…well…it is not attractive to eat ribs. They were delicious.

Other single Valentines Days have been celebrated with fellow single friends and movie nights – not in self-pity because we’re single, but because we’re at the same stage of life. Sometimes it’s refreshing to be surrounded by people who are sharing your current life goals, problems and, well, lack of couple-related responsibilities.

Before my pride was so barren of single friends

There is always popcorn. It is a rule.

This year, I have a date. I’m celebrating Valentines Day romantically, it’s true.

YES! LEGO MOVIE!

Guess what we’re doing? Go on. Guess.

But no matter what, it’s still kind of an awesome holiday, if you let it be. Couples get to be coupley. Single people can throw parties. Married people can set aside some time to go out on a real date.

If we all just stop being bitter and thinking this holiday is all about showing off.

So, Happy Valentines Day, Internet. I’m really glad we’re in each other’s lives.

Totally true

Because ours is a truly true love.

Tragic Tales of 20-Something “Love:” The Story of Captain Romantic

Or: Happy Valentine’s Week, Y’All

Lots of people hate Valentine’s Day. They say it’s silly and commercial, and obviously just another cog in the capitalist, consumerist machine. Not me, though. I’ve always liked Valentine’s Day*.
*And it’s glorious follow-up holiday, 75% Off Heart-Shaped-Chocolate Day. It comes every February 15, and I celebrate it religiously.

*HUG!*

I confess to my hopeless romanticism. And also I like to hug big plush hearts.

I think it’s nice that we set aside a day to show the ones we love that they’re appreciated – whether it’s a significant other, friends or family members. It’s like celebrating someone on their birthday. Once you strip out all the materialistic expectations, it’s all about designating one day to be aware of the one you love, romantically.** And that’s sweet.
**Or the ones you love platonically. Or familial-ly. It’s all about love, people.

But it’s never really been a day that’s gone right for me. On that note, I’d like to introduce you to Captain Romantic. We were together through the senior year of college, and for two years after.

This is not stated with much enthusiasm.

Tah-Dah.

We were together for two years when this particular Valentine’s Day came around. I knew, of course, that he wasn’t a terribly romantic guy. So this time, our second Valentine’s Day together, I decided that if I wanted romance, I could make it happen myself. I hurried home from work, rescued the present I’d wrapped, and set to work making his favorite meal for dinner.

The Romance! The Sweetness!

Check out all that enthusiasm! Romance is in the air! For sure!

I was excited – it was the first time I’d gone out of my way to try something romantic.

It was steak,. I made steak

Ok, I may have let him unwrap the present BEFORE I declared what it was.

Things seemed to be going well. I was still in my domesticated phase of life***, and nothing had burned – not even the dessert. The place was pretty, and everything fit in my budget. I felt like the master of romance and was so happy to see Captain Romance smile at everything I’d done.
***That point in time when I cooked dinners and washed dishes and didn’t have all the local delivery numbers memorized. It was a tough time.

Real women cook in aprons

Everything is more romantic in an apron.

After dinner, he pulled out a gift for me.

Dun dun duuuunnn...

With these exact words. Please keep these words in mind.

I was excited. A token of his feelings? That was possibly the most romantic thing Captain Romantic had ever said to me. The packaging didn’t stand a chance. I had that thing open in a blink.

Seriously

I am not making this up, people.

It was a toaster.

For toasting bread.

Say it with me: I feel toaster for you

Seriously. I’m good at reading between the lines and all, but toasters and feelings together in the same present is just confusing.

I did not regularly complain of my lack of toaster. My roommate had a toaster oven, enabling all of my bread-toasting needs. But Captain Romantic was so pleased – my kitchen did not have a toaster, and he had noticed, and he gave me one to remedy the situation.

Because that is the type of romance I enjoy in my life.

True story, guys.

It’s a real toaster. This is a real story

I don’t make these things up, people.

An end-of-post apology:

This post is very late in coming, mostly because I am out of my mind on cold medicine today.

I am such a plague-bearer

Did you know that if you wave tissues in the air while marching around, it’s like you’re having your VERY OWN PARADE?!
This changes everything.