Confession time: I’ve never loved Valentine’s Day.
Actually, I don’t think VDay loves me. I mean, what else could possibly explain the box of conversation hearts I picked up last week at CVS? It was not filled with sweet nothings like “Kiss Me” or “Cutie Pie,” but rather, MY box had an inordinate amount of sugar hearts emblazoned with the words “Let’s Read” and “Book Club” in bright pink ink.
Was it a subliminal message from Cupid? Did I accidentally pick up the diabetic librarian snack pack? Maybe it's a sugary lesson in abstinence? I don’t know.
What I DO know is it’s pretty ironic that for the past 3 years at work, on Valentine’s Day, I’ve thrown 14 weddings at the Empire State Building. This is me! The girl who has never, ever been married. And who can count on her thumbs the number of times she’s even been dating someone special on this most auspicious holiday (and honestly, one of those may not even count – he got me a Whatchamacallit, which I do love, but still, an obscure 75 cent candy bar does not a proper VDay gift make).
Anyway, even factoring in the one couple who invariably gets cold feet every year, that still means that I’m responsible for 39 marriages. Yes, somehow, this single gal actually pulls it off! Luckily, what I lack in personal experience, I make up for in Type A organizational skills.
So, here comes my shameless plug…
In this time of fiscal frugality, just skip the overpriced roses, chocolates, and dinners this Saturday, and enjoy a free Sleepless in Seattle-style moment by tuning in for a few live-streaming weddings. It's an exciting marathon day of "I Do's" that starts before dawn and ends after dusk. What could be more romantic?
While I have a soft side that really enjoys helping to make this amazing opportunity possible for deserving couples across the country, the part of VDay I most look forward to happens later in the evening.
Well, I suspect my night ends a little bit differently than yours. When I get home I’ll take a hot shower (NOT a bath, it’s totally gross to marinate in your own dirty water), put on some comfy PJs and fuzzy socks, and then I’ll pass out in my fluffy bed, exhausted and enjoying the fact that I’m not being bothered by a fine fellow looking to redeem a “love coupon.”
Oh, did I forget to mention that my Whatchamacallit was accompanied by a homemade coupon for a foot rub? Yeah. No wonder we broke up.
So, won't you be my Valentine this Saturday?