February 14th, 1993
Valentine’s Day, a lose/lose situation
I hate Valentine’s Day. I think it goes back to the excruciating elementary school tradition of collecting all the valentines in one big box o’love and having the teacher hand them out one by one in front of the entire class. This was fine and dandy in first and second grade when everyone gave valentines to everyone else–a lovely little concept that unfortunately rendered every sentiment completely meaningless because it didn’t discriminate.
It didn’t take too long for the students of Bayville Elementary School to catch on to this. By fifth grade, Bavyville School’s reigning prepubescent bitch realized that Valentine’s Day could serve as a sadistic competition. Nadine LaDieu declared that she was only giving valentines to boys because those were the only ones that mattered anyway. Not just any boys, mind out, only ones she considered cool enough to be part of the elementary school elite. All the girls agreed to do the same, my spineless self included. She made all the boys promise that they would only give valentines to girls they thought were cute. (I attributed Nadine’s unsurpassed power to the fact that her mother let her wear flesh-colored pantyhose when all the other mothers would have NONE OF THAT until we were thirteen.) I only received one valentine, and that was from my square dance partner. (I’m fron New Jersey, mind you, not a state internationally known for it’s ho downs, but I think my principal saw it as a way to promote healthy interaction between males and females…Hmmm…hay bales in the Greek theater…) He exposed himself regularly on the playground and I hear he’s in prison now.
Thus began my hatred for Valentine’s Day. It’s not as if every February 14 has been an exercise in rejection though. In fact, my first “real date” was on Valentine’s Day. (I remember this only because of my complete humilation over my mother’s cute comments emphasizing this very fact as she drove us to the movies.) And through the years I have gotten my fair share of red roses and those chalky, heart-shaped candies with “HOT LIPS” and “ONE SMOOCH” printed on them.
More often than not, I’ve had someone to share this holiday with. And I’ve found that even if you do have a “physical friend” on February 14, you have to deal with the stress of buying an appropriate gift that will represent how deeply (or not) you feel about your other half. And after agonizing over your purchase, you must pray to Cupid that your mate has bought a gift of equal value, otherwise your relationship is DOOMED. For example, a gift of gold jewelry says, “Hey. I dig you big time. After another year or two, I might even admit that we have a relationship.” If the reciprocation of this gift is dinner at The Landing, it says: “The only reason I didn’t take you to dining hall is because I didn’t want too many people to see us eating together.” See? Uneven exchange=Termination of relationship.
But the real reason I loathe Valentine’s Day is because on no other day does the world find as much delight in reminding those not fortunate to be schmecking with a significant other on regular basis just how pathetic and undesirable we really are. I am not by any means limiting this phenomenon to this campus, but I was never really aware of the effects of this holiday until I saw it celebrated UR-style. For a school so infamous for not fostering male-female relationships, I never saw so many red roses in my life. Love was so thick in the air you could choke on it.
This in itself is not such a horrible thing, but the widespread Westhampton reaction killed me. Anyone who received nary a red rose whined about how much of a oser she was and how there was no chance that she’d ever find her husband on this campus because any guy mature enough to handle a relationship was snatched up as soon as that info was made public and all the rest of the guys are just interested in hooking up. This, of course, would leave her no choice but a life of lonliness and lot of charges made to Jessica Hahn’s LOVE PHONE.
Since “Belongingness and Love” is wedged smack dab in the middle of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. (How’s that for pulling the Into. to Psych. out of nowhere?), I have to think that there are guys who feel similarly about girlfriendlessness. They just aren’t as vocal about it. Unless that’s what all their party-time primoridal grunting is about.
Whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not, way too much importance is placed on being worshipped and adored by the opposite sex. I’m all for being worshipped and adored, but not when the lack of said worshipper negates everything else in my life. I think that students (myself included) focus so much on the limiting effect that the lake has had on inter-gender relationships that we overlook the importance of the friendships we have made. Why waste all this emotional energy on the guy or girl you haven’t met when you can save it for the people who do care about you? These are the people who deserve it.
If it so happens that you and that special someone are frolicking together in that Valentines bells-are-ringing, birds-are-singing wonderful world of love–don’t flaunt it okay? Not only is it annoying, but it will be really embarrassing when you break up.
