Ode to Valentines Day

Valentine, oh Valentine, how I hate thee. Let me count the ways….

I know I’ve mentioned my luck of the Bundy’s, but have I ever mentioned my Valentines curse? Cause I am, cursed. Not sure who’s responsible, but I’d sure like to give them a big karmic kick in the bum! Okay, maybe I’m not really “cursed”, but it sure is starting to look that way. In my life, I’ve had ONE valentine, yes you read correctly, just one. See, in the past, no matter how long I’m with someone, I always get the urge to dump the man I’m with at least a few days before the big love fest. Even in elementary school when you were supposed to put valentines in everyone’s little bag hanging on their cubbie, I managed to not get one from everyone in my class, I think I ranked lowest next to the girl that always smelled like pee and the kid who ate paste. It’s not that I was disliked so much as I just didn’t exist to most of the kids at my school.

The one Valentine’s day I actually did have someone, it was the someone who broke my heart the next year shortly after the diseased foul holiday. Oh he gave me a present for the second one, but kept acting funny and I never counted the second one with him since a few days later he cheated on me with some young hot thing that idolized him. One happy Valentine, that’s all I have had, that’s all I will get.

One time my friend dragged me to a Bruja, she was convinced it was a curse after watching me year after year go through the same thing. I admit, it was amusing, and strange. This house sat on a street like any other house in the neighborhood, so we walked in without knocking I think. The living room was empty of furniture and instead had groups of goth teenagers in circles around candles performing various things. The dining room had a group around a card table looking like they were performing a seance. Finally the Bruja came to greet us from one of the bedrooms, and asked us to come back. She read my cards like most fortune tellers and said I was cursed. My friend interpreted for me since my Spanish is well, horrible. My friend told me after we left the woman wanted six hundred dollars to lift the curse, along with a live chicken and some other unusual items. First of all, where would I get a live chicken? Secondly, uh just no. At least it was an amusing twenty five dollars spent.

At least this year, there is no one for me to dump or otherwise run screaming from. I’m glad this year I’ll be at work, surrounded mostly by married females, and hopefully not having to see too many pink hearts and fat babies wielding arrows, or people using the holiday as an excuse to show way too much pda!