Whether I've wanted it or ignored it, Valentine's Day has always been horrendous. With or without a significant other, this damn day demands more than any day should, with the exception of some grand overblown wedding. But just like self-indulgently traditional weddings, Valentine's Day doesn't really mean anything to anyone. Sure everyone spouts the standard refrain, "Oh, the day of love! Show how much you care!" But does anyone actually accomplish that display of affection? Really?

You might be thinking, "Look at the sour, lonely girl complain... The rest of us who have love in our life really know how to appreciate this day."

No, I have a boyfriend, and no, there's no way to appreciate this day. There's nothing to appreciate. You can see it in the desperate, empty eyes of people rushing into stores tonight at 8 PM, looking for that last minute little something so that they don't have to sleep on the couch. Tonight, as Tony chugged gas into his car, I watched man after man after woman walk out of that convenience store with one of those scented fabric roses. I saw a few guys trudging back out to their cars with red and pink "special edition" bags of their "sweetie's" chocolate o' choice. This is what people mean by showing how much you love someone? "My love for you is boundless, eternal, ...uh.... I think all I really mean to say can be summed up by this 99 cent rose."

Valentine's Day is like a 90 pound, 5 foot 8 model. Sure, it exists, but not for anyone I know.
So you can keep your Hallmark-stamped, cheap rose-scented, chocolate-covered farce of a holiday.
This is the last year I'll even pretend to care.