Wednesday, January 27, 2021

I hate Valentine!

I am an angry woman.

I am angry because Valentine is around the corner and hotels and lodges have Valentine’s Day specials for two.

I am angry because I am tired of seeing women dressed in red, with permanent smiles on their faces, while their besotted partners pamper them with red roses that will wilt after hardly a week.
I am angry because Valentine’s Day gives men a reason to believe that a woman should be cherished and shown attention, at least that once in three hundred and six five days. What happens during the rest of the year?

I would rather celebrate Halloween. I still have my witch’s costume from last year’s Halloween party. Let them celebrate Valentine’s, I will go trick or treating.

Cast one or two spells and get away from all the pretence.

That said, I promised myself that I will not accept flowers and all the lovey dovey things because I don’t want to be a statistic of the sorry women who only find love on Valentine’s Day. I will, however, accept wine and chocolates if they are presented to me as thoughtful gifts from the heart just because it is a Sunday.

When I was younger, I understood why people got all excited and worked up over Valentine’s Day. That is because I used to believe in love.

For every teenage couple, Valentine’s Day is the day on which they prove just how much they love each other.
The teddy bears, roses and the cards will be parlayed before envious friends, as the young girls brag about how sweet and thoughtful their boyfriends are.

In most cases, I was the one they bragged to. It was a painful experience; I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. You can imagine how I felt when they said, “What did you get. Oh, I forgot you do not have a boyfriend.”
The snobs!

After getting my heart crushed for the millionth time last year, I decided that love is a myth, and that Valentine’s Day is nothing but just a pretentious day at which people claim to love each other when, in fact, they don’t.

I hate it when my friends stress about what to wear on Valentine’s Day, whether they should wear matching shirts or red shoes. I hate it when they squeal in anticipation, loudly wondering what presents they will get.

Maybe it is because I never had a serious boyfriend. Surprised? Well it’s true. This is probably why I think that Valentine’s Day is a cursed day. I would either get dumped a week before the day or just lose interest in the person.

The sheer absurdity of it just amazes me. I have seen women who don’t want to be seen to be clich├®d, laboriously hunting for an outfit that is not outright red, but rather has subtle shades of red.

The department stores also go on a craze, giving absurd specials on perfumes that have been exorbitantly expensive throughout the year.

I have researched on the history of Valentine’s Day, and I still can’t grasp what the hell it is all about, and its relevance to traditional African culture.

To me, Valentine’s Day is a day on which department stores and restaurants make ridiculous profits. It is also a day on which women worldwide score free presents. This cause I wholeheartedly support.

Let the heart breakers pay.

The truth is, whether I like it or not, Valentine’s Day is here to stay, and all the loathing in the world won’t get me anywhere. I will try my best to grin and bear it, because I know that many people do not share my sentiments.

My unbiased opinion to Valentine’s Day enthusiasts, especially the men, is that they should not be conventional, but rather do something different for their loved ones.

Do not take your partners to the movies, everyone does that. Rather organize a surprise picnic for two at a special place. Ok, bring the chocolates and the presents, but make sure that your presentation is out of the ordinary.

Cards are also too clich├®d, get rid of them. Rather make her a small scrap book, with little pictures showing your past times. Make history.
Reminisce about the special moments in your life.

Maybe that is why I will be alone on Valentine’s Day, probably watching a horror movie.

I am not just an ordinary woman; it takes an extraordinary man to impress me.
Anyone out there? Please?


Read this week's paper