Back in the day when I was young I was obsessed with Valentine’s Day and all that it meant. Specifically, how much I hated being single and how much more I hated other women who were in relationships. They’d parade around on Valentine’s Day with heart balloons that read “I love you” and “Be Mine,” and I’d hiss at them and their happiness. They’d beam while smelling a bouquet of roses and I’d sob at their happiness because of my unhappiness even though I fucking hate roses.
So, yea. I was that girl on Valentine’s Day. The one who fronted that she didn’t care about Valentine’s Day when she did. The one who wanted to wear black and declare it Valentine’s Birthday because, as it turns out, my friend Valentine was born on February 14th. The one who wanted to hit up an anti-Valentine’s Day party with her girls because “we don’t care about Valentine’s Day!” and “we just need each other like Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte!”
I lied, yo. Lied my ass off just like Carrie and Samantha lied to us all about how close they were when they in fact hate each other.
If you’re putting emphasis on Valentine’s Day when single and declaring how much you don’t care, guess what? You care.
So that’s my confession. I showed you mine, it’s time for you to show me yours!