Monday, February 18, 2013

It's late, but this is the Valentine's Day rant.

I would just avoid this subject entirely, but I hate to pass up an opportunity to be sarcastic and annoying.

Ok, folks, Valentine's Day.

Can I just share a few things that make me want to barf? Also, can we pretend I posted this last Thursday? Don't run for the hills, this post isn't the ranting of a cynical single gal who is secretly (yet publicly) bitter about her singlehood -- although that would be funny, right? And not overdone at all.

No, these are the rantings of a very content single gal (who may hold just a tad of bitterness every now and then, whatevs whatevs shrug it off) who feels ambushed every year by overpriced flowers, insincere cards, and those boxes of chalky-tasting candy hearts. 

Ok, no. I shouldn't be angry at these inanimate objects. Chocolate is meant to be eaten, not hated on. Ya know what I'm really ambushed by? Two groups of people.

The first is predictable, and I'm sure y'all don't mean to do it. But really, all you couples: you are adorable. You are. I applaud your right to hold hands while waiting for a coffee at Starbucks, it's cute that you're taking your time (and space) strolling leisurely down Capitol Hill's uneven brick sidewalks, I don't even mind the public make-out-sessions while I'm jogging around the monuments. Go for it, ye snoggers!

HOWEVER. Just because Valentine's Day is a holiday celebrating love (I'll come back to that in a moment) doesn't mean that the normal rules governing public displays of affection have suddenly disappeared. What this means for you: I know you want to stand next to your honey on the bus, or the metro, but dude seriously it's rush-hour and I'm being crushed by a wall of frustrated commuters and can you please just budge up there a bit? You and your boo can stand apart for a few minutes. Also, the Metro is not an appropriate (or sanitary?) space for a make-out session.

Group 2. All the single ladies! AaaaAAAAlll the single ladies, put yo hands up! (My parents will not get that musical reference, I'll explain it later guys. Also, thanks for letting me tease you online. Again.)

Single ladies. Stop hating on love. It's annoying. I know your heart was broken by That Guy, but c'mon now. Don't try and ruin it for everyone else. And don't try to pull us neutrals into your hate-camp, drinking martinis at the bar and snapping your fingers for "Another round!" while you list off all the annoying things about couples. Yup, some of those things ARE annoying. But I don't see how getting publicly drunk and belligerent will help. (It's totally ok to do that with your gal pals at home, though! *cough cough* I've never done that.)

I guess that brings me to Group 3. Bonus!

Hey, Commercialization -- you suck. You've taken something really beautiful, rare, and life-changing and reduced it to red heart-shaped balloons, frilly lace, a box of plastic-y chocolates, and requisite roses. "Hey, I love you today. Because it's February 14." What about all those OTHER days of the year? Isn't it just as important to love me on October 22? Feb 14 is a holiday that marketing companies have discovered they can use to guilt people into demonstrating affection -- and if someone forgets *ahem, guys* then BAM. You must not love me. And now I'm gonna be angry because you've forgotten it's Arbitrary Affection Day, and you're gonna be angry that I've forgotten all those other times you brought me flowers "just because."

Yup. Sure makes sense.

Furthermore, there are so many kinds of love. Feb 14 only showcases the soppy, happily-ever-after kind. What about sacrifical love? Or sisterly love? Or parental love? My parents have never failed to send me flowers on Valentine's Day, no matter where in the world I am.  But you don't see commercials encouraging you to tell your best friend how much you appreciate her.

Wanna read another excellent blog on this last point? Check it out: Love is Not Pretty, and It is Not Pink. Good read.

Ok, I think my rant is over for now. Cuz I'm tired and, ya know, there are fresh cookies in the kitchen.

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