My Valentine's Day Curse

And yet? It's still one of my favorite holidays.

In first grade, I got head lice. It was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life made worse by the fact that it forced me to miss my Valentine’s Day class party. Here I was, at home, with my mom picking microscopic bugs out of my hair, missing what promised to be the most romantic day of the entire school year. My teacher assured me she would hand out my Britney Spears foil cards on my behalf and still set out my Valentine box to collect my cards, but it obviously wasn’t the same.

Absolutely legendary behavior on my part to hand these out in first grade.

I have always been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. Growing up, it was a holiday that meant special sweet treats and a little gift from my mom and dad. I have vivid memories of coming out to the kitchen before school and seeing a festive table, maybe even heart shaped balloons, and Krispy Kreme donuts waiting for us. Those traditions held firm all through high school and even into college (freshman year my parents actually showed up with donuts at my dorm which was only slightly embarrassing at the time, but mostly I was just happy to have donuts and shocked they drove over an hour to deliver them).

There is something sort of inherently cringe about Valentine’s Day that you have to get over whether you’re in a relationship or not. Sometimes sitting at a fancy table being handed a rose by the host, and picking selections from a pre-fixe menu just feels a little, on the nose? You think it’s what you want, your partner thinks it’s what you want, and yet it can feel sort of silly. However, if you’re not sitting down with your lover paying too much for dinner and mandatory dessert, you’re at home, silently stewing, wondering why your husband hates you.

In my adult life, I have had some pretty awful Valentine’s Days. In 2014 I got into my first car accident, the following year my childhood cat died.

One year, I believe after some sort of mild argument, my now husband then boyfriend didn’t text me “Happy Valentine’s Day” all day. I’m pretty sure we had plans for the nighttime, but it was particularly bad day for me— my car broke down, I had to call a tow truck from the side of the freeway, I came in late to my restaurant job crying— and the entire time I kept thinking “I can’t believe my stupid boyfriend hasn’t even said anything to me today”.

The picture I sent to work when I was going to be hours late

When he arrived at my apartment later that night, I opened the door pissed. He was holding flowers and a gift bag from Stone Cold Fox in Venice Beach, which, if you were around in 2016, you know what a big deal this was. Turns out he had been running around the city like a mad man trying to secure this really elusive and sort of expensive robe I wanted. So on top of my really long, bad day, I now felt like a monster.

In 2022, we made plans to go to Disneyland on Valentine’s Day. A foolproof plan, no? We woke up, hit the road early, and started the day with a Mickey Waffle. Heaven! We were snacking and laughing and having the time of our lives until dinner— where after a slice of pizza, I had my first ever gallbladder attack. My face went ghost white, I had to get completely naked in a Downtown Disney bathroom and thought I was going to die or give birth to a surprise baby, nude and in Minnie Mouse ears, on the floor of the handicap stall. Luckily neither of those two things happened and I simply was rushed to the ER the following day then scheduled for surgery.

lmaoo the nails as discussed here

I have had great Valentine’s Days, bad Valentine’s Days, and everything in between. I should be abundantly clear: my husband is really good at this holiday, he’s never like, forgotten or dropped the ball. It’s just one of those days that historically, something goes wrong for me. It started with head lice in 2000 and staying true to tradition, last year I got the flu.

But for some reason, despite it all, I still love this holiday.

I still look forward to it and send my girlfriends love notes in the mail. I still get excited picking out a card and writing a something sappy inside for my husband even though he knows it’s coming. I like walking into the grocery store and seeing all the pink and red candy out, I like seeing people scurry about with last minute flowers. For a while, I’ve had the dream of being someone who throws an annual Valentine’s Day party, open to anyone and everyone. It doesn’t really make any sense because most people just do something with their partner or try to ignore the day all together, but in theory it would be a really great time and the decor would be incredible.

This will be the last Valentine’s Day without a tiny person to decorate the kitchen for, and maybe, given my track record here, I should be grateful.