That Horrible Day That Comes Once a Year

Everyone has a least favorite day of the year. It may be the anniversary of a loved one's death or maybe the day taxes are due. Perhaps someone abhors St. Patrick's Day because they forgot to wear green and are therefore ruthlessly pinched. Whatever it may be, I wholeheartedly respect this tradition of loathing a specific day once a year. Mine is Valentines' Day.

Back in the years of elementary school, I looked forward to Valentines' Day every year. It was an opportunity to show off our creativity in shoebox-decorating, as well as consume copious amounts of candy (second only to Halloween). I dressed for the occasion in pinks, purples, frills, and hearts galore.

So why has this changed? One word. It starts with 's' and ends with 'ingle'.

-I frequent the grocery store, and this time rather than being pleasantly greeted by bright boxes of Fruit Loops and cans of hearty vegetable soup, I am blinded by gigantic red heart-shaped balloons with the words "I Love You" screaming at me in a loopy font of sickness.
-I sit in class and spot an advertisement for engagement rings. IN CLASS.
-I go to Barnes & Noble to look for a cookbook and right there in the front of the store I see a whole table of books on romance (actually, sex), looking in pink and red like Cupid vomited all over them.
-I run crying down the street to escape the madness and there are couples everywhere, holding hands, playing footsies, making out, all staring at me and my blatant singleness!

Okay well... that last one was a bit of a stretch, but SERIOUSLY! I feel so singled out (ha... ha... ha...) I want to run up and down neighborhood streets on a rabid goat, throwing green party confetti into everyone's hair while proudly proclaiming that nothing is wrong with me because I don't have a significant other.