Why I Hate Valentine’s Day
Whenever someone mentions Valentine’s Day, my heart skips a beat. And when it skips a beat, it’s not doing so out of love, happiness, or excitement, but instead, out of sheer terror.
Remember back in grade school there was always that one kid who sat in the back of the class and no matter what happened, when Valentine’s Day rolled around, he didn’t get a single valentine from anybody, not even the teacher? And as the day dragged on, he appeared to be getting more and more depressed and rejected until they finally broke down in tears? Well, guess what? That kid was me! I was the kid that year after year, never got a single fucking Valentine’s Day card!
I can speak from my own personal experience that getting a card from your mother just adds to the disappointment. Nobody wants to get a valentine from their own parent. It’s just creepy!
This Valentine’s Day I woke up in a bad mood because I knew yesterday that today was the dreaded day. It only got worse when I went to the mailbox to find that as in years past, nobody had sent me a note or card asking to be my valentine.
Nothing arrived, not even a note, a box of candy hearts, or even a utility bill that I couldn’t afford anyways. Now of all the days out of the year when the mail arrives, why was it so important to make my already bad day even worse?
It’s not the first time, nor the last time I’ll have a bad experience on Valentine’s Day. It just seems to me, that for some reason, Valentine’s Day has some sort of grudge against me.
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