What's Become of the Broken-Hearted?

When I was young we would pass Valentine’s Day cards to everyone in our class. We would make little mailboxes out of construction paper and tape them to the front of our desks. Through out the day classmates would drop little duckie, wide-eyed kitten and Scooby-Doo valentine’s cards into your hand made love boxes. For most kids this was an academic obligation rather than a real show of affection. Those children grow up to be CEOs of a large corporation, part of the Bush administration or the day shift manager of a Banana Republic. Eventually the red paper and heart shaped candy in-class festivities fade into Social Studies, Calculus and Biology. Those who aren’t required to be nice to everyone anymore begin to hand out Valentine’s Day cards to only the people they “like” (basically setting up the “like” people to be pawns in the chess game called ‘High School’.) But there was always one person you could still count on for a little extra love on the Hallmark holiday, your Mom.

For the next few years after grade school your Mom becomes your main supplier in Valentine’s Day paraphernalia. Once in a while Grandma would try to muscle in but Mom would always find some way to trump the old lady. Well into your teen years you accumulate quite a collection of teddy bears with roses, coffee mugs with hearts all over them and giant pop-up cards. Somewhere around your twentieth birthday you wonder what to do with all this shit. You don’t have the heart to throw them away but keeping valentine’s you’ve gotten from your Mom since you were twelve seems a little pathetic now. Plus, how would Mom feel? The most logical route usually is to keep a choice few of cupid’s chachki collection and make up some semi-believable excuse for how the rest disappeared. Such as, they were lost in a move or snatched up by a gang of international retail holiday bobble thieves. Eventually your mother takes the hint; soon the gifts become smaller until they are whittled down to a card in the mail that appears two days after Valentine’s Day. But soon someone else fills the void where your mother’s gift giving love use to be, enter the significant other (boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever.)

In any new relationship Valentine’s Day is a BIG deal. It ranks right up there with Christmas, birthdays and your ‘six month’ anniversary. Lavish gifts are purchased to show your never ending love for one another and the bond that only soul mates share. Once again you begin to stockpile an abundance of cutesy tokens of love, which begin to clutter every corner of your house. You can’t hide them away in a box somewhere behind the Halloween decorations in the attic because you know it will be the first thing they notice. They’ll zero in on that empty spot on the bookshelf where the pink elephant snuggling a heart use to be and the first thing out of their mouth will be, “Where is Cupid the Elephant I got for you back in…? (you know the rest.)” So you tolerate these ritual totems of love until the one day you don’t have to any more. At this point one of two things will happen; one, you will some day marry the person who has showered you with all of these gifts and eventually you’ll lose interest in exchanging presents of endearment because you’ll consider yourselves lucky you haven’t tried to kill the other in his (or hers) sleep. Two, THE BREAK-UP! This is your perfect opportunity to take all of that, worthless pink fluffy, snuggly-wuggly, “I will love you forever!” SHIT and pile it bonfire style in the backyard. Drench the pile with as much kerosene, alcohol or gasoline as you can find (any flammable liquid will do really) and set it a flame. While the bushel of heartbreaking mementos burn in a glowing rainbow colors you can’t resist the urge to dance around the fire in glee naked with sticks. (Cough!) Not that I would know or anything. Well, when all is said and done (and burned) Valentine’s Day isn’t about couples, dating, marriage or even love. It’s about how we feel (good, bad or otherwise) about someone else or ourselves. And this year for the first time ever I gave a Valentine to myself.

In the past (far distant past) I would celebrate Valentine’s Day by getting drunk or binging on Oreos, chocolate and whatever dark confection I could get my hands on to signify “Black (which ever day of the week the holiday landed on) Day.” It was a time of loneliness, over-eating, self-loathing and extreme drinking but than I found someone. Then the premise of the holiday switched, now it was all about making the other person happy, making the day special for them. Well, my friends those days are OVER! This year I decided to do something different, I decided to give myself a Valentine. Now I could have easily slipped into the abyss of “poor me.” “Why am I alone?” “How come he found someone so fast and not me?” BUT I didn’t! I went the path of.. “FUCK YOU! THIS IS MY DAY!” It was a day just for me! Where I did exactly what I wanted and none of it was good for me! I skipped out on exercise; I didn’t shower, watched bad TV and ate horribly. I loved every guilt free, chase away the blues, I’m fabulous, filthy, belching, farting, calorie filled minute of it! And at the end of the day (despite the too much pizza and ice cream) I felt good about myself, better even!

It would my advice to you, single or otherwise to have a Valentine’s Day like this. Do what makes you happy, do something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Turn off the phone, don’t go online, don’t answer the door, and don’t tell anyone what you’re doing or where you’re going. Take the time to give yourself a Valentine. It’s better than chocolate.