HOW TO: Celebrate Valentine’s Day

Dear Raquel,

Valentine’s Day is coming up — but it’s a pandemic so I’m not sure how to meaningfully celebrate with everything closed. Any tips?

Signed,

Cupid

Dear Cupid,

Earnestly celebrating Valentine’s Day?! Couldn’t be me dawg and it shouldn’t be you either. The only flowers I’ve ever received from an S/O on V-Day came from the grocery store I used to live above — kinda removes all romance when your bouquet of wilted Metro roses smells like deli meat. And anyway, I don’t really care, I can — and do — buy my own flowers, it’s why women fought so hard for equality of the sexes, so we could spend our 70 cents to every mans dollar on earth-toned bouquets.

Real talk though, it actually kinda freaks me out when people are tooooooo forward with gifts and gestures on made up holidays. Buy me something on a random Tuesday in April, THAT’S sexy. I don’t really like gifts for the sake of gifts on days that advertising companies have invented to sell stuff. Also, anything heart shaped makes me physically sick, unless it’s a baked good or a handmade card. And don’t get me wrong, I LOVE LOVE LOVE me some material items. I own approximately 46 variations of the same black sweater and I am showing NO SIGNS of stopping. But the allure of tangible gifts is kind of dulled when it feels obligatory, ya feel? It’s why I LOW KEY hate Christmas but even LOWER KEY !!LOVE!! my birthday — it’s MY day and no commercial is reminding you to write me a heartfelt card and express-ship cookies to my door. You have to REALLY like me to bother, and that, for someone so desperate for the sincere acceptance and affection of others, is the *piece de resistance*.

I can’t blame everything on consumerism though. To be fair, I also have some repressed childhood trauma from Valentine’s Day circa 2004, when I was in grade four and this kid in my class, Tyler, bought me a cinnamon heart candy gram. He always called me beautiful and would hold doors open for me — like straight up RUN for the door so he could swing it open before I could reach the handle. It made my face burn red hot with incredible shame, because bro, I can hold my own door and I don’t want to be beautiful, I want to be HOT.

Later that year, as Valentine’s Day approached the seventh and eighth grade classes were selling $2 candy grams for some sort of fundraiser. I didn’t think much of it because I was in grade four and cinnamon hearts are a total subpar candy. Also, no one in my class was cute and we celebrated class-wide by giving out those tiny, themed Valentine’s cards anyway. Remember those?! You’d spend the night before sorting through your Arthur themed cards, choosing the best characters (Arthur, Muffy, Francine, DW) for your favourite people and giving out the shitty ones (Mr. Rathburn, Binky, Prunella) to the kids you didn’t like as much. For all my Gen Z’s — it was like subtweeting but by hand and only one day a year.

All this to say, I had no interest in receiving a valentine from any guy in my class. For those who didn’t grow up somewhere with a population of <2,000 people — there’s something in the water in small towns. It makes almost every guy ugly and short in public school, then “hot for [insert high school’s name] from grades 9–12 until suddenly they’re alcoholic roofers who have somehow aged 16 years post-graduation. A tale as old as time.

Anyway, along came February 14 2004, a blustery, winter’s day in Central Ontario. A group of eighth graders rolled a cart of cinnamon heart dime bags into our classroom and much to my dismay, called MY NAME off of their sheet on a clipboard. I wanted to spontaneously combust right then and there, but I got up and collected the candy, Tyler’s shaky handwriting scribbled on the tag. I don’t even think I said thank you to him, I just kept my eyes downcast and shoved the candy in my desk out of view. It’s embarrassing to have crushes at that age! We’re all so awkward and young and my valentine happened to creep me TF out!!!

For example, he was my age but called every girl in the class ma’am which is uncanny coming out of a nine year olds mouth. Also, he randomly had a southern accent? Actually, if anyone I went to public school with is reading this, I’d love some validation that you a) remember this dude and b) can confirm that he was in fact a peer and not secretly a 40 year old man with some sort of disease that made him look like a little kid but sound like a preacher from South Carolina. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have been so ungrateful and Too Cool for Skool™ over the whole thing but I’m an Aquarius-Pisces cusp so that’s unfortunately kind of my vibe. Besides, I’m sure Tyler is out there somewhere, making a “ma’am” very happy, supplying her with enough cinnamon hearts to kill ME, his scorned, fourth grade lover.

It’s been 19 years since Candy Gram Gate and I still think we — as a #SOCIETY are better than cheap, foil-wrapped chocolates and red roses. Personally, I think if you’re in a relationship every day should FEEL like Valentine’s Day, so when actual Valentine’s Day rolls around, you feel no pressure to flex because you and your partner are constantly celebrating your love & appreciation for one another the other 364. Do I live in a fantasy world? MAYBE?! But I’m also painfully alone, so why are you asking me for advice in the first place???

That being said, I don’t want to make anyone feel bad for being a little basic. If you MUST celebrate, do it in a low key way. I don’t want to see pictures of candlelight dinners or heart shaped giftware on the TL or I am legally required to report it to the authorities. As a writer, I’m a huge proponent of heartfelt letters and cards, who doesn’t appreciate a handwritten sentiment every now and again?! But don’t half-ass it, you know? If you’re gunna write a note, put some thought into it and don’t get the card at a pharmacy. If you’re gunna buy flowers, go somewhere that doesn’t also sell Wonder Bread.

I know I’ve talked a bunch of shit so far but this year I will in fact be putting my ego aside and celebrating….how much I love MYSELF. I’ll be eating a meal that I reserve for special occasions only (Kraft Dinner avec ketchup + sriracha) in my new apartment. I’ll likely watch a documentary because television WILL turn your head square unless it’s educational programming and I might even finally crack into the Kristen Ess temporary rose gold hair tint I’ve been holding onto. After all, nothing says “I am frighteningly single” like festive pink locks.

Happy celebrating to all my losers + luv bugz.

XOXOXOXOXOXO.