Adrienne BoettingerTuesday,12 February 2013

The Snap:

Fellow singletons, we’ve almost made it through the treacherous holidays. Thanksgiving was easy. Turkey, pie—where can you go wrong? Things got a little dicey at Christmas. You braved parties alone, where that weird friend of your parents hinted around that you’re probably a lesbian but should still shake your groove thang before everything gets dried up and crusty. New Year’s Eve was almost your undoing. Your friends, sidled with germ-factory toddlers, have given up trying to match you with the socially awkward mutants at their office who are the only other single people in the tri-state area. Well, get ready bitches, V.D. is nearly upon us.

The Download:

I once spent Valentine’s Day praying to the porcelain gods after an embittered friend and I foolishly ate vats of onion dip, tubes of cookie dough and washed it down with vodka. In the end I think it was really the sappy movies that made me want to vom. There are only so many cutesy happy endings I can take and this is from a woman who needs to join a support group at Christmas to stop watching made-for-television movies so she can actually shower and leave the house.

So that I actually don’t destroy my TV by heaving a beloved shoe at a commercial with an adorable couple buying a diamond ring equaling a year’s worth of mortgage payments, I’ve decided I will no longer be victimized by this hellish holiday. Realizing that years of pity parties have gotten me nowhere, I am now metaphorically giving V.D. a big middle finger.

I don’t want to be the girl that whines about the commercialization of the day that has become an $18.6 billion industry, but seriously. You may think that your friends are having romantic dinners and opening little velvet boxes, but odds are their hapless husbands buy gas station carnations and stale chocolates on the way home. I could give a crap that I’m one of the pathetic peons that purchases presents for their pets (accounting for an approximate $815 million of holiday spending). I like my dog more than 99% of the people I see anyway.

It’s not that I am not happy for my nearest and dearest that have found their other halves but I’m tired of having all these schmaltzy fantasies of love and adoration on display, making me miserable. So for all those for whom Cupid is just a stupid fat baby with wings, 15 February is just around the corner. You can make it. It’s a marathon not a sprint, every cloud has a silver lining, it’s darkest before the storm, yadda yadda. Buy your own damn chocolates, have a drink and put on your big-girl-pants. Tell your friends and family you love them, use the day to fight violence against women, whatever. Remember, it’s better to be happy being whole in yourself than bemoaning the lack of another half.

Hat Tips:

CBS NewsSioux City JournalHuffington Post, Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

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