Have a F*ck Valentine’s Day Party For Me

So, one year I wrote a “Fuck Valentine’s Day” post. Then I ended up having a Valentine’s Day lunch with a new friend. We were both careful to avoid acknowledging it was Valentine’s Day. Although we had just met, we were already in unspoken agreement that having a first date on Valentine’s Day was just too precious for either of us.

Ultimately, it made Valentine’s Day awkward, and it stayed that way for a couple of years until we split up.

Really, if there’s one piece of advice I could offer lovers everywhere, it would be to pick an anniversary date without any other emotional load. Don’t propose on Christmas, don’t spend your first wild night together on Thanksgiving, don’t have a first date at a Seder (why is this night different from all other nights?). Don’t get married on your dad’s birthday (okay, that was me, and the subject of another post), unless you want the potential of crappy holidays in the future. After all – paraphrasing the words of the sage Dan Savage) – “No relationships work until one does.”

But when my Valentine’s relationship started, one of the best parts of the first date was our refusal to bow to a commercial holiday that is stuffed down the throats of partnered people and tied like nooses around the necks of single folk. We ignored it. In fact, it was months before either of us brought it up.

Valentine’s Day is a holiday that’s lovely for starry-eyed young lovers, but filled with hurt for everyone else. Almost any mature person you ask can tell a painful Valentine story.

So, I’ve been busy with other aspects of my life, but someday, I’d still like to host a F*ck Valentine’s Day party.

The original post:

I actually think these events should happen all over the country, in big cities and little towns. There could be “FVD” t-shirts and stickers. It could be a movement – the ultimate Hallmark backlash.

I envision a FVD party like this: Invitations, posters, and emails invite people to gather at a local venue – a home, bar, or restaurant. For a nominal fee, individuals can put unwanted, painful Valentine’s Day memorabilia through a paper shredder while party-goers cheer them on. For another small fee, they can have three minutes of open-mic time to tell their Valentine’s woes: funny, sad, or painfully ironic. There could be a piñata shaped like an ex-girlfriend, and a bad lingerie swap. There should be cheap shots of a special concoction we’ll call the Love Potion #9 Antidote. All proceeds will benefit a local women’s shelter.

Like I said, next year. This year I’m having lunch with a new friend and taking a dyke yoga class. I figured, what better place to be on Valentine’s evening than with my yoga-loving people? (Note: I never made it to the yoga class.)

This year’s not all bad. One of my friends unexpectedly sent me the most touching Valentine I’ve ever received, and someone brought me a flower.

Still, I think I’ll remain a fan of the bitterly ironic Valentine. Some of my favorites are by someecards.com. Check ’em out.

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