V-DAY.

Of course I have to do a post on Valentine's Day, as a young woman navigating new territory in life and love (how brave and adventuresome of me). So, here it goes.

I have spent significant time complaining about this holiday. That it's too commercialized. That it's the commodification of love and romance. Come on, gooey chocolates and red roses don't symbolize love. Neither do diamonds. We don't profit, the chocolate, rose, and diamond companies do. So do the ones that make those too-squishy teddy bears with red bows sold at places like WalMart and RiteAid. In fact, on a more sociological level, the holiday's only purpose is to encourage women to create high expectations and for men to feel obligated to reach them. Poor men, I would say, who are burdened with not knowing how much they should do (or not) for the women in their lives. So terrible that they have to put themselves out there and define their relationships by purchasing the aforementioned goodies. Forget the whole thing. Too much pressure.

But these lamentations are lies, all lies. The truth is, I love Valentine's Day. Not as much as my birthday, or Halloween, but I think it's great. The truth is (and this may be getting a little personal, therapy-session-y, but oh well), that I am too scared a guy won't do anything for me that I've either learned to expect nothing or asked to not celebrate at all. Or requested that I do something for him instead. Because there is nothing worse than hoping for something and being disappointed. Especially when everyone will inevitably ask you the next day what your boyfriend/guy-in-your-life-who-could-be-your-boyfriend-but-you-aren't-really-sure did for you. Better to say, "Oh, I decorated his apartment," or "We decided not to celebrate this year," than be faced with the potential alternative of, "Nothing."

I recently realized how I've been hardened, pessimistic-ized. It likely stems from past disappointment. I haven't dated since mid-college so I'm used to that minimal effort, frat guy behavior. I've resorted to trashing the one holiday I'm supposed to let a guy show his true feelings for me, because, frankly, I'm too scared he doesn't really have any. How's that for completely warped? What does it mean? That I don't expect guys to treat me nicely? Or I don't think I'm lovable? This mid-twenties time of learning new awesome facts about myself is certainly enlightening.

Now that Valentine's Day is getting closer (less than two weeks!), women without definitive plans are poking their heads around looking for reinforcement. Like eels emerging from craggy rocks, we slowly peer at each other hoping we won't have to spend that day alone. We'll gather in groups, reserve each other. If anyone asks, we've got plans, thankyouverymuch. We're excited to spend the day/night with "just the gals."

More lies. It's a known fact that no girl wants to spend Valentine's Day with her girlfriends. I've done it. I know. Sure, it was fun to go to the tapas place with Jordann, Jules, and Doreen for V-Day 2003, but I would have preferred the company of the guy I was maybe-sorta-dating at the time (who, by the way, might have been the catalyst for the heart-hardening since he decide to pretend Valentine's Day didn't exist even though we had gone to each others respective frat/sorority dances that month). But, hello...no one really wants to spend the night trashing men. No one really hates flowers and candy. No one really wants to single-handedly polish off a two-pound box of See's Candy purchased by Mom (oh, V-DAY 2003, good times).

Because, if you do get a date, you are fully entitled to blow off your friends. That goes without saying. The friends are a placeholder. A just in case. A safety net. Sure, we'd feel sorry for the friends we leave behind, but not that bad. If given a chance, we'll take the prix fix meal, the roses, a Whitman Sampler, or even simply one of those perforated cardboard cards. We'll take anything.

I, for one, have just been too terrified to admit it.