As a young American child, you would be forced to participate in the ritual of being forced to give treats to the rest of you classmates, wither or not you liked them. These were the years in which I actually enjoyed Valentine's day, as I knew I would without a doubt receive candy to make myself sick with. Yet, this feeling of excitement was not meant to last, and disappeared during the sixth grade. Up through the fifth grade, you would be placed in one classroom for the entire day, much like cattle placed in dairy barns to feed and be milked. As we were being milked, we were placed into a lull, which the school overlords felt could be covered up by red, pink, and white paper, and the exchanging of confectionary.
Though we were given the freedom to set up a NAFTA of children exchanging candies, the products were usually far from delectable. Many of the children (or more likely their parents) were cheapskates, and only purchased sub-par chalk based candies with rather uninspired sayings written upon them. Or very bland heart-shaped lollipops with a suspicious white detailing which often poorly applied.
Yet, starting in sixth grade, we were no longer confined to one teacher, and one group of children the entire length of the school day. So it became a rarity that I received anything for Valentine's day, and by rare I mean rare. It was about as rare as finding a dramatic movie that resonates within you when it has David Spade in the lead role. Upon one hand I can count the number of Valentines I have received in the past ten years, they number two. One was from a friend of mine in middle school, it was a Hello Kitty brand card without Hello Kitty upon it. The other came from February 14th 2011. As I woke and walked to class I noticed a piece of paper tucked underneath my windshield wiper:
If you may be confused by what this means you likely don't watch the British car show Top Gear. Which has a "tame" racing driver who sets the lap records for all the cars reviewed on the show, and apparently knows two facts about ducks (both of which are wrong.) As I Christmas gift I received this sticker:
Though it's far from a romantic gesture, it's much better than being ignored by someone who may peak your interest. So it becomes much more important than those imaginary Valentines you may receive, like a honey baked ham or a hardy handshake. Plus the heart with hyphen on either side is a nice touch.
Becoming rather bitter over time (we are talking plain radish and black coffee bitter,) after years of unaffection, I have found a sort of light at the end of the tunnel. The day after Singles Awareness Day is blessed with the mark down of candies, which "bachelors" like myself can horde and feast upon in an attempt to fill the void in our souls with chocolate, peanut butter, and cherry flavored hard candy. It seldom works. Though there is a feeling of exuberance going down the aisles grabbing those sweets which chumps paid top dollar for only twelve hours previous.
