Cupid Is Not My Homeboy

Confession: I have never been in love. I mean, yes, I do love things (things like portobello mushrooms, “Drumline,” the Dodgers, yousendit.com, and plasma televisions), but I’ve never actually been in love with another person. I thought I was once, but I was young – too young to know any better – and, well, the feeling passed. Anyway, I’m single now, and that’s fine with me; I’m happy being on my own. I know people say that all the time to downplay their true feelings of unhappiness while inside they’re like that board game, Operation, but instead of the funny bone or the bread basket they’re full of loneliness and despair (though similarly, both versions have a broken heart – do what you will with that). But that’s not me. I really mean it. I’m sort of a solitary person in general anyhow. Most of the time I’m either reading or listening to music or cooking, and those are pretty hermitic activities. I’m not averse to eating out alone or seeing a movie solo, and, for the most part, I can take care of myself. I’m good at being alone and I like being alone.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. I’m probably part of a huge contingency of people who actually prefer being single. I imagine that we’re a pretty solid group – focusing on our futures, enjoying our families and friends, and getting to know ourselves well enough so that one day, when love finally greets us, we can embrace it without reservation. At least that’s what we tell ourselves to keep from completely falling apart when the world delivers its biggest slap in the face to singletons everywhere: Valentine’s Day.

I ask you now: What moron created Valentine’s Day? I don’t think I’m a violent person, but if I ever met this idiot, I think it would get very, very ugly. Like mafia ugly, but without the hoagies afterwards. Or like Tarantino movie ugly, minus the swords (I’m just guessing that I would prefer hand-to-hand combat; swords are heavy and, coupled with my tremendous rage, I’m pretty sure my fists of fury would be both more accurate and more powerful). It would be brutal because…because it would have to be, wouldn’t it? Because really, is there an actual need for Valentine’s Day? No. All it does is remind single people that they’re not in a relationship. It might as well be called “No One Loves You, Loser” day (or in my case, “No One Loves You, Loser, But Here’s A Box Of Chocolates From Your Dad Because He’s The Only Man In Your Life But Even That’s A Sham Because Your Mom Probably Told Him to Get Them for You Because She Feels Bad for You; Could You Be Anymore Pathetic?” day). It’s like suddenly, all that carefully crafted acceptance of the single life is shattered to pieces that, just to get a good kick in there when you’re down, land on the floor and spell out “LAME-O.” It’s enough to send even the most stable (but partnerless) person into a tailspin of shame, hopelessness and desperation. Bottom line: It’s horrible, and every year I black it out on my calendar and wait for the oxygen to stop feeling like it’s being sucked out of every lovey-dovey room that I enter.

(And as a side note, where is the day that honors being single? Why don’t we celebrate people who refuse to waste their time in relationships that go nowhere? Where are the cards that praise us for waiting to get married until we find the perfect person instead of settling for any old doofus? Any fool can be in a relationship. Most fools are in relationships. It takes a special person to be all right with being single. And you can put that on a card, Hallmark.)

Still, as much as I rail against it, fume about it, and protest it loudly in the streets, I don’t really see Valentine’s Day going away any time soon. There are too many couples, smug twosomes who look down on us parties of one with pitying disgust, to eradicate this disease of a day permanently, which is why I’m posting this today. Tomorrow, as they say on “24,” I’m “going dark.” I plan on coming home, shutting all the blinds, bypassing the lounge clothes and going straight to pajamas, then eating, oh, I don’t know, an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk while watching “Lost” and hoping that perhaps the dog will be in a snuggly mood and curl up next to me until the day is finally over and I can breathe again.


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I realize that whole post reeks of bitterness, but I think that even if I were in a relationship, I’d still be turned off by Valentine’s Day. Probably not so vehemently, but turned off nonetheless. I mean, come on – if you need a special, nationally recognized day to remind you to be crazy in love with your partner, then you’re probably not in such a great relationship anyway. If you really love someone, you should tell them, and tell them often. I would think that that would be better than a gorgeous box of roses, a fancy dinner and expensive diamond earrings combined. But that’s just me.