Column - Valentine's Day: A.K.A. "Anti-singles Day"

Okay, so I'm gonna put a bunch of columns on here I've done for some publications in the past and also some new stuff I'm working on. For all those relatives out there that think of me as that "Aniston PG-13 darling" - please look away from the forth-coming onslaught of my inner "Saucy R-rated, deep dark chocolate layer".


Valentine’s Day: A.K.A. “Anti-singles Day”

I like to affectionately call Valentine’s day, “Anti-Singles Day” since it’s biased against anyone that’s not part of a “couple”. Every Valentine’s day, like some sick unearthly joke, I am forced to fight the bowls of hell and the cloaked spirit of death. Apparently it seems for the majority of Valentine’s Days passed I have had various attempts by God to remove me from the planet. Everything that is bad in the world seems to hit me on THAT DAY!! Isn’t that odd? The most romantic day of the year and bad things happen to me. It’s an omen. It’s bad enough I have to deal with a stinking holiday that rubs my own love-less life back into my face but I also have to fight hell as well. I have a list of all the things that went wrong on numerous February 14th’s such as: getting mugged, getting in a car accident, my appendix rupturing and dying on the operating table (nope – didn’t see any white light or tunnel, … I wonder if that means I’m going to hell for sure) and the list goes on. Every Valentine’s day is cause for sheer terror for me. I have a mental picture of God sitting on a cloud and yelling down “I’m gonna get’cha!!”
So then there was the year that the house got broken into, and then the following year it would catch fire. The Valentine’s day I spent in the hospital after my mother got into a car accident; the following year I got into a car accident. Year after that the dog died and so on and so on. I find it amazing that all of these major events happen yearly on the SAME DAY! How impossible is that? I mean – what are the chances? I finally started to get the message loud and clear when I met this guy, “Nick”. So, sure enough, my personal favorite holiday of death rolls around and there are numerous Valentine’s day parties going on. So I decide to go out and try not to be depressed. Low and behold, I see Nick at a party I was at and worked up enough nerve to talk to him. Things seemed to be going well and I actually briefly thought for a moment that I might escape the date unscathed at last and my luck was changing. We got to talking and he was saying he was a musician. So then he says, “Guess what instrument I play.” So I’m being all cutesy and flirty in my tone of voice and trying to guess, “Ummm, piano? Harp? Saxophone?” and as I’m guessing he’s looking more and more pissed like I’m making fun of him or something. So then he holds his left hand up and angrily growls, “DRUMS!” Wouldn’t you know it – he was missing his ring finger. His WEDDING ring finger. It was gone. Oh, was it ever gone. It was just soooo not there. How the hell I didn’t notice the man didn’t have a finger I have no idea. And here I was guessing all these instruments that required all your fingers to be present. He thought I was making fun of him. If that isn’t indicative of my life I don’t know what is. What the hell are the chances that of all the men I will meet on Valentine’s day, it’s a man missing his wedding ring finger. It was a sarcastic joke from God in the form of symbolism to let me know I will be alone, man-less, for all eternity till my womb dries up and falls out like a bitter crusty prune. I’ll be walking down the street at 80 yrs. old and some kid will yell, “Hey, lady, you just dropped your uterus.” How embarrassing would that be?
I will admit though, that I was married once a few years ago for a period of two months – to which I have dismissed in my mind as ever happening at all and thus proclaim I get a “do over”. You see – the former ex spontaneously decided after dating just a short while that we should just take the plunge and elope on Valentine’s day, knowing my history of the day, to change my luck ----so we did it. We married on Valentine’s day with a little fear and some hope. Two months later he left me for my best friend and thus the curse was obviously not lifted but now has become a horrid anniversary as well. Ahh… the pleasures of being “me”.
So I wonder what will happen this year. Will I be struck by a delivery truck carrying those heart-shaped candy with the stupid words on them like, “miss you”? Will the dating hotline post my picture on their website with a red circle and a line through it? Will my “dating impaired” status get me my own handicapped parking space at the mall? Will they make a TV movie based on my pathetic love life? Or will my current boyfriend buy me a bowling ball with his name engraved on it knowing I don’t bowl but he does? Actually that’s not so bad. One year I got a stainless steel “snake” for the toilet bowl. There I was – cleaning shit off of everything. Stay tuned for this year’s events.