A VALENTINE CAN OF ALMOND ROCA
I have never liked Valentine’s Day, and the older I get, the stronger I feel about it. There are many holidays I wish we could abolish, but Valentine’s Day is top on my list.
Even as a kid I recognized it was a cruel holiday. Not only did it separate out the children who were artists from the ones like me who couldn’t even cut a decent shaped heart, it also made clear who was popular and who wasn’t. As we all counted the Valentines we received in our hand-made mail boxes that hung from our desks, it was always painful to see that a few others got more than I did and heartbreaking to watch the ones who got even less. I suppose I should have been grateful to have received as many as I did, but instead I just focused on the ones I didn’t receive that a few select had. The one I wanted from the cutest boy or the most popular girl. Or the ones that had a personal message or were bigger or prettier than the others.
In later years, the holiday took on a deeper meaning. What began as a test of your popularity soon turned into a sign of whether you were a success or a failure. A winner or a loser. By a certain age, if you didn’t have a significant other to celebrate the day with, something was wrong with you. It was no longer just about counting the number of cards you received or measuring how large or how pretty the cards were. It was now about one thing only. Was there at least one person in the world that thought of only you on Valentine’s Day?
Looking back on all the Valentine’s Days I “celebrated” while I was married, I realize now that they were ALL a disappointment in some way. Even though I was pretty much guaranteed to receive a card and some sort of chocolate or candy, none of them ever lived up to my dreams or expectations. As the years went on, less time, effort and money went into the holiday. It actually became a running joke for us after the year my ex ran out at the last minute to buy something and came back with just a can of Almond Roca. He seemed pleased that at least he had found something “pink”, and although I laughed along with him, it stabbed at my heart. A symbol to me that not only was the holiday a farce in some way, it also represented a dying relationship. A marriage that had lost its sizzle, and we were just two people going through the motions and conforming like everyone else to society’s expectations.
Fast forward to today, and now that I am single and divorced, the holiday only means that the restaurants will be full and there will be long lines at See’s Candies. I am no longer “guaranteed” to receive a Valentine’s card and probably won’t even bother checking the mail today. It’s not that I hate celebrations of “love”. It’s just all the phoniness I can’t stand.
Copyright © 2014 (Michelle Parsons, Getting Back on Your Path). All Rights Reserved.
