I find VDay forced and artificial. Much like weddings. (Which is why I didn’t have one.)
Despite its history (which does appear to date back to 16th century lovers giving each other tokens of affection) it’s the epitome of the cellophane wrapped Hallmark Holiday.
I don’t like it.
So, I don’t bother with it.
But over the last few years, I’ve been drawn out of my normal, pleasant VDay apathy by several repeating irritants.
Everyone else is celebrating and they want you to celebrate too!
Hey. I have my holidays and you have yours. That’s cool.
I will smile and call it cute when you show me the card your boyfriend picked out or tell you to have fun on the $300 dinner date your husband or wife (though it’s strangely, usually, the former) has splurged for.
But please, stop telling me I’m missing out by not indulging in any ephemeral actions of “romance” on this one day out of the 365 days we have each year. (And don’t try to guilt trip my husband into thinking he should get me something. He knows me better than you do.)
Words cannot express how tired I am of coming across adages in blogs and news articles alike that claim: “Women love to pretend that they don’t care about Valentine’s Day.”
|…dangers of a hive mind…|
Tell me, did you poll every one of us or just ask a few women who travel in your circle and then make a sweeping assumption about everyone who identifies as a woman?
Or did women become a hive mind when I wasn’t paying attention?
Consider that little gem my VDay gift to the world.