For the girl who has been known to ask boys to bring Oreos if they want to come over, Valentine’s Day is nothing more than an excuse to eat chocolate. Or more of it, as I suspect they whisper “that’s her… the one who demands mint chocolate balls” whenever I wander into Sugar Mountain. It’s not that I’m bitter per se, it’s just that I have seen the under belly of this sickly sweet and scantily clad holiday and it’s about as appealing as catching your parents having sex. What could be so ghastly you ask? The Norwalk virus. In a university residence. Or, less explicit but infinitely more scarring, there is the ridiculous notion of fighting one’s hormones for three days in an attempt to “save” sex for Valentine’s Day (like we’re going to run out of it?) Add to that the pressure of one’s very first V-Day in a relationship and you may find yourself face to face with a mattress and sheet love tent, listening to a sappy love playlist stolen from the OC soundtrack all while trying to subtly pick dollar-store too-small lingerie out of your butt. Chances are, you may end up lying in said tent, staring at the ceiling, pondering one of three things: should we break up; is this thing going to collapse on me, and why did we decide to forego sex?! Indeed, the best laid plans often won’t get you laid at all.
Surely, my well-intended but haywire Valentine’s night has earned me some major love karma. At the very least, I can save all of you the tragic disappointment when your overly zealous plans unravel and tangle before your eyes. Lesson learned: the things that feel forced, are. No wonder your boy can’t get it up; he’s had a week of tent construction and song selection weighing him down. It’s best to approach Valentine’s Day with as few expectations as possible. Or follow my lead and make Feb 14th about the true loves of your life: your best friends. Their love is the one to cherish and celebrate. Whether they’re wiping snot from your tear-strewn face or prying the phone from your drunk-text happy fingers, they will always have your best interests at heart. And if they don’t, practice some tough love and boot them from your tent. The real friends find their way back. And unlike the boys, they don’t need to be asked – they bring their own Oreos.