What’s the only thing single people dread more than being forced to watch sappy romantic comedies? That’s right: Valentine’s Day.
I’ve noticed single people usually deal with Valentine’s Day in one of two ways: an excessively disgusting public show of self-pity, or an equally disturbing display of self-pity disguised as indifference and cynical moral superiority.
The first group is easy to spot. They are the ones dressed in all black on Valentine’s Day, sighing theatrically and telling anyone who will listen about why their love lives suck so much (probably because they are self-centered, pessimistic whiners).
This is, of course, only if they have managed to stop wallowing in their self-indulgent misery long enough to haul themselves out of bed that morning. After all, why even bother getting up if you’re doomed to be single and unloved?
Members of the latter group also feel extremely sorry for themselves, but are in profound denial of this fact. Pretending to be far above silly frivolity and sentimentality, they instead make jaded remarks about how Valentine’s Day is nothing but an over-commercialized excuse for drug stores to sell cheap chocolate and nauseatingly syrupy cards.
This blasé attitude is a charade; you’ll notice these people gazing longingly after happy couples holding hands even before they finish mocking them.
In the end, both of these groups — the self-indulgent and those in denial — really just make up two sides of the same coin. And both of them are equally silly.
Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to be synonymous with torture and death just because you’re single. In fact, I’ve always really enjoyed it, even though I’ve only had a serious boyfriend once on Valentine’s Day (and he didn’t even buy me flowers, the bastard, but that’s a whole different story).
And why shouldn’t I enjoy Valentine’s Day? Even if it is cheesy, there aren’t, as my roommate pointed out, that many holidays between New Year’s and spring break, so I might as well take advantage of all the ones that I can. You don’t need a significant other to enjoy eating heart-shaped cookies or making ridiculously foofy homemade cards for your friends.
Valentine’s Day should be, above all, a day to love yourself and your friends — not just your boyfriend or your girlfriend. Last year, one of my good friends bought dozens of roses on Valentine’s Day and gave one to pretty much everyone in our dorm. It was a small gesture, but it really made a lot of people’s day. After all, who doesn’t like getting flowers, whether they’re from the love of your life or just an acquaintance? It reminded me of elementary school, when we decorated little mailboxes, and then brought Garfield or Barbie Valentines for every kid in the entire class.
So, this Valentine’s Day, whether you’re single or not, celebrate yourself. Get a massage, treat a good friend to dinner somewhere fancy, buy something ridiculously useless and extravagant that you’d normally never get for yourself. It’s okay to go get drunk with all your same-sex single friends — just don’t follow it up with going home and crying yourself to sleep.
It’s really stupid and sad to let your self-esteem get wrapped up in being half of a whole. You don’t need some sort of significant other to define who you are as a person.
Anyway, do you really, in all honesty, want some sort of chained-at-the-hip boyfriend or girlfriend? I didn’t think so. Being single is awesome; you don’t have to think twice before making plans with your friends for Friday night, you can flirt with whomever you want and you never have to hang out with their weirdo friends.
Still feeling sorry for yourself? Comfort yourself with the knowledge that Valentine’s Day could be far worse. In ancient Rome, Feb. 14 marked the occurrence of a pagan ritual, in which the young males were be assigned to their female sexual partner for the year through a random lottery. I don’t know about you, but I’ll take heart-shaped cookies and cheesy poetry that rhymes over that any day.
Kristin Wieben ([email protected]) is a sophomore majoring in political science and French.
