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Valentine is for lovers

I Hate Valentine’s Day

February 14, 2013

in random

Screen Shot 2013-02-11 at 10.24.20 AM

As much as I hate Mother’s Day, my own birthday, I hate Valentine’s Day more. To be completely honest, it is because these holidays set up expectations despite my resistance and I inevitably am disappointed. I am a Cancer so my natural reaction is to set up walls around myself when these days come around. Call me passive aggressive if you wish but the defense mechanism has been keeping me sane for years. If I don’t acknowledge it, it ceases to exist and cannot hurt me.

I am not giving anybody any Valentine and therefore I am not expecting any. I am however going to see Die Hard 5. I am genuinely psyched. Can’t explain why. Yippe-kiyay Motherf—! Also, I am buying shoes, and they will all be retroactively credited towards Valentine’s Day gifts.

I do however want to talk to you about love poems. Don’t fret. I am not going sentimental on you. I found a gem and want to share it with you. I guarantee it will make you smile especially if you hate Valentine’s Day as much as I do. Thank you so much. Oh, you are so welcome.


I Feel Horrible. She Doesn’t by Richard Brautigan

I feel horrible. She doesn’t

love me and I wander around

the house like a sewing machine

that’s just finished sewing

a turd to a garbage can lid.

In all seriousness though, my favorite poem happens to be a love poem, albeit a sad one. Whenever I read it, I could see myself sitting in a departing taxi, speeding away, as I turn to look at the ever diminishing object of my affection. My eyes well up. For naught. Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all. Try anyway.

The Taxi by Amy Lowell

When I go away from you

The world beats dead

Like a slackened drum.

I call out for you against the jutted stars

And shout into the ridges of the wind.

Streets coming fast,

One after the other,

Wedge you away from me,

And the lamps of the city prick my eyes

So that I can no longer see your face.

Why should I leave you,

To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?


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February 13, 2011

in random

If you are out and about this past week, it will take a lot of resilience to not be carried away or affected by all the pink and red hearts, the flowers, the chocolate and candy in pretty pretty heart-shaped boxes wrapped in red ribbons tied into perfect little bows, the flowery typeface all over shop windows and billboards. On my way home on Friday evening, the second I stepped in the train station, I sensed the collective nervous energy from the crowd. People were swarming in front of the Fannie May counter, all of them men. The same with the flower stand. As I walked through the train to find an empty seat, I saw many, men, awkwardly trying to keep the flower bouquets upright and in check.

I have to confess: With all the talk of “Bah Humbug! I don’t care about Valentine’s Day. Won’t people please shut up about it already?” my heart was caught in my throat and tears began emanating from behind my eyes, stinging them, when I settled into a seat and noticed a balding middle-aged man in a pedestrian outfit in front of me holding a lovely rose bouquet.

Luckily for me, it so happened that on the same day, I discovered at the CVS right outside the train station one of the best inventions known to women, especially commuting women, Juice Box Wines. I was also not without a box of chocolate in my possession because Mr. Monk, my 8-year-old, had asked me that morning, “Mommy, would you give me a box of chocolate for Valentine’s Day?”






I was disappointed when I asked, half jokingly [ONLY half!], The Husband before he left for his month-long trip abroad, “So, you are going to send me flowers right?”

“Are you crazy? That’s a total waste of money!” He said, NOT joking at all. “They are expensive and they won’t survive longer than a week.”

Fine. I knew I was not married to Mr. Romantic when I entered the deal, and I tend to agree that flowers ARE expensive and impractical. [It just seems easier to tell myself that.]

Isn't she sexy?!

To be honest, I am kind of relieved that once again he’s not here for Valentine’s Day. I would have been the person that planned everything and stressed myself out. Without expectations, there will be no disappointment.

His absence makes it a non-event and I get to do whatever I want: So I decided to ignore it but not before I went and got myself a Valentine’s Day present, and The Husband was more than happy to take the credit: “See? Isn’t that an awesome Valentine’s Day present? Much better than flowers?” I had to agree.

All’s well that ends well.

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