Everyone I know either dreads Valentine’s Day or basks in it. Personally, I have been on both sides of that spectrum and it is always completely contingent on my love-life (or lack there of). It is utterly amazing to observe how much power women give this “Hallmark” holiday. The week leading up to February 14th can be one of self-loathing or one of scouring for the right gift, dress, or lingerie to please their Valentine.
My most memorable and hilarious Valentine’s memory involves thirty single people, cases of alcohol and a “Slasher” themed-house party. When bitter, lonely women face a holiday that attempts to further ostracize them for being single and alone, they may indeed feel like killing people (thus the gore themed party).
The online invitation I received suggested that attendees come decorated in fake blood, wounds, and perhaps even carry fake weapons. I happened to have some fake blood left over from Halloween so I decided to be festive and obey the invite. I was modest with the blood and I put it on in the car because I didn’t want to alarm people on my way across town.
Inside the party there were bloody single women in every corner throwing themselves at bloody single men. It was as if the desperation for love and affection was bursting from the seams and it was all going to explode onto the street. The scene was the exact opposite of every cliché Valentine’s Day party ever depicted, observed, or imagined. I only knew a few people at the party so I decided to be an anthropologist and simply observe the madness. There were intoxicated girls sobbing, calling their exes, whispering to their friends, and there were a few like me, laughing at it all. When I looked at the party guests it was obvious that the only people in distress over being alone on Valentine’s Day were the women. The men seemed to feel the exact opposite way. The men seemed excited to be alone, to play the field, to bounce from woman to woman.
This was a funny Valentine’s Day memory because it was this moment that I decided to not to ever care about Valentine’s Day. Watching debauchery ensue over the trivial pressure women face to “find someone,” made me never want to acknowledge the holiday again. Now, I’m happily in a five-year relationship, and I have a boyfriend who feels the same way. We don’t indulge Valentine’s Day or make a fuss over it or dote on it. Instead we’ve agreed to treat each other with love and do sweet things and be romantic on any given day (or every day). I beg that women don’t mourn a Valentine’s Day spent alone. I hope that women hold their heads high and laugh at the desperation like I did.