Five days until Valentine’s Day and I find myself, yet again, trying to explain to people how I feel about Valentine’s Day.  You see, I’m not girl that’s ever excited about the potential of red-foiled candies.   February 14th doesn’t make me want to don a pink sweater.  I don’t wish for flowers.

I promise, I’m not one of those “Single’s Awareness Day” girls, or someone who rants about it being a Hallmark holiday.  If Valentine’s Day is mentioned to me, I don’t sigh and roll my eyes in a Liz Lemon-like fashion. Valentine’s Day doesn’t make me sad that I’m sans boyfriend, or wish that I was coupled.  I was serendipitously in a relationship once during mid-February, and honestly?  The whole night felt weird and forced.  I went out of my way for the guy, he kinda-sorta half-assed it.  When I look back on that night, what I remember most was that I made a really delicious dinner.  (Like, crazy yummy, y’all.  Crab and shrimp enchiladas!! Fuhgetaboutit.)

Here’s the thing: Valentine’s Day is cheap, and I don’t like cheap things.  I also don’t like cliched gestures.  I’m really uncomfortable with the idea of sweep-you-off-your-feet romanticism.  I much prefer quiet, silly little detail-y things.

So like, future boyfriends, take note: do something goofy for me on February 15th.  I am much more likely to sex you up then.

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