Valentine’s Day just passed, and what would the day of love be without my weekly nagging? As I try to explain my grief, be aware that this week I’m toeing the line between article and manifesto. This holiday has never brought me joy, even if I’m the one celebrating it. The typical critiques of Valentine’s Day are that it’s a corporate holiday, the more conspiratorial of us believing it was just created to sell candy and roses. My biggest problem with Valentine’s Day is not that it’s a corporate holiday, though. I honestly wish it were a federal holiday, because then I could at least spend the day inside.
Spending superfluous amounts of money on things you don’t need isn’t unusual, in fact, it’s America’s pastime. On Valentine’s Day every year, the amount of money spent on meaningless dollar store trinkets could feed a medium-sized country, even if it were only fed with heart-shaped chocolates. Yet this is not even close to the most sickening display of affection during the holiday. While copious, arbitrary spending is quite annoying, seeing actual affection in person is much worse. Two mouths becoming one in public should be taboo on any day of the year. Doing the same on Valentine’s Day should be a felony.
The worst place to be on Valentine’s Day isn’t at a romantic restaurant by yourself; the worst place to be on Valentine’s Day is social media. What’s isolating on a good day becomes torturous on Valentine’s Day. Post after post, story after story, lovers of all kinds brag about their Valentine with a wrath towards the single population. Most posts treat their loving relationship as an ancillary reason for posting, with the primary motive being to point and laugh at single people. I’m not sure why us being single elicits such vengeance, but I promise you we’re no happier about it than you are. The most common style of posts I see aren’t even flattering, and usually mention how you “always annoy me, but I love you.” Others go even further, describing their Valentine in a way that would make Joan Rivers blush, but punctuate with “Happy Valentine’s Day.” It’s none of my business if you and your boyfriend fight 364 days a year, just save that dirty laundry for the hamper. Even if your post is nice, you should still keep it in the drafts– some photos just look better in the dark. We were aware on February 13th that you were dating, so your post doesn’t serve as a reminder for us, it serves as strike one. Strike two comes when your boyfriend reposts your post, subjecting us to your affection a second time. The third strike comes when you comment on his repost of your post, forcing us to witness a mushy paragraph that would cause an English teacher to drop dead. You’re out.
Two years ago I awoke to find that the day had come. It was February 14th, and unfortunately, nuclear destruction had been postponed for another day. I took it upon myself to post a private story telling people not to post for Valentine’s Day. I received nothing but criticism. The maelstrom of hatred I received for this was jarring. I thought we were all on the same page, I thought we all hated Valentine’s Day posts. Apparently, the entire world doesn’t share my cynicism for the holiday, but I have a long time to change that. My thought remains the same, though. What I said to my critics, I’ll say to you: if you are in a relationship and your single friends don’t want to be bothered by that fact, I have to side with the singles. You have the thing that everyone wants, we don’t have to be happy you have it. You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too, just be glad you’re having cake and not a TV dinner for one.
Valentine’s Day, or as some call it, VD, shares a lot more with infection than just an abbreviation. Witnessing this day play out every year is both retch-inducing and blood-pressure-raising. The only thing missing from V-Day is a chronic rash, which I’m sure some people will get as an unexpected gift from their hastily acquired Tinder date. Just like every other joyful holiday, Valentine’s Day always ends. The morning of February 15th always comes, and the single people of the world rise once again, albeit from their twin-size beds. You may delete that Instagram post with your sweetie, but the nauseating impression you’ve made will last forever, just like the rash. So with this in mind, next year on February 14th just ask yourself: how’s your VD going?
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The Smoking Section is where I observe the world at large, and put a magnifying glass on a subject we all hold dear to our hearts. As a member of Gen Z, I think it’s important that we take a step back and remember that life is not that serious, and no topic is too good to ridicule. In the Smoking Section, we take a step outside of the party for a breath of less-fresh air. Here if you don’t have anything nice to say, pull up a chair next to me.
@schmidtconrad
