Love songs fill the radio waves. Storefronts and classrooms are washed in shades of pink and red. Jewelers increase their markups. Chocolate sales go through the roof. Florists make a killing.
Ah, sweet love, it's Valentine's Day.
FrenetiCore's Anti-Love Party: where I will have 4 love themed pieces up for auction
Valentine stems all the way back to elementary classroom parties where the rule was you either bring a Valentine card for everyone or no one at all. And because you didn't want to be a killjoy and because your parents didn't want the "uninvolved" label, everyone always gave everyone something. At the end of the day, your tiny backpack overflowed with candies and cards and you felt like the most loved kid in the entire school district.
Little did you know, soon, the "all or none" rule disappears. And until you grow up and find yourself a spouse/partner who hopefully isn't one of those "holidays suck" type, for a brief moment in time, you are left at the mercy of one giant popularity contest.
Shot Me Down
High school. It was the bane of my adolescent existence.
Cupid's a Bitch
Like any teenage girl, I loved Valentine's Day. It was a day of dressing up in a special outfit. It was a day to dole out little gifts to your girl friends. It was a day of anticipation to see how many carnations were secretly sent to you. It was a day to see which cute boy would finally profess his love for you. It was a day to walk around school with your arms full of stuffed animals, flowers and balloons. It was a day to feel like the most special, pretty, loved girl in the entire school district.
Except. Year after year, I got bupkis.
I wasn't the popular girl. I wasn't the cute girl. I wasn't even the ok friend of the cute girl.
I was the girl you compared notes with. I was the girl you accidentally ran into because you didn't notice her*. I was the girl you asked to watch your stuff. History project? I was the girl you wanted in your group.
So, here is my Valentine's Day PSA:
If you are in highschool and you're a cool kid, enjoy it while it lasts. Popularity never extends beyond the 12th grade.
And if you are a loser, just be patient. You have a lifetime of resentment and bitterness ahead of you.
*Or, if you're really lucky...one of those boys will notice you. He'll notice you just long enough to grab you by the backpack and use you as a battering ram to navigate his way through the congested school hallways. Not that I would know...