I just want someone to explain it to me. Seriously, it's never made much sense. I remember when I was in grammar school, and the tradition was to buy your little perforated cards, fill in the to and from spaces, then drop them on everyone's desk or inside little boxes. Strange, I can't remember exactly which one. Anyway, I usually picked Garfield cards because I felt like Garfield was my personal cartoon. I loved him to death as a kid. I had a bunch of those little books, and I'd read them over and over. He was sarcastic, and sarcasm was hard time find in peers when you're under 9 years old.

Anyway, this was exciting for some reason that I cannot recall. Maybe because it was a predictable, annual stray for the norm during those monotonous school days of multiplication tables and diagramming sentences. Boys would let down their guard a bit, and I would learn at least for that day that I wasn't as hated as they all would have normally wanted me to believe. Thinking about this, I can now remember a bunch of times when grade school wasn't so evil. There were two boys who never really made me feel terrible about myself. I had a crush on both, and roller skating school trips got very interesting during the couples skate. I remember being called up during the week for an invitation to skate couple with this boy. But I digress…

Kids know romance when they're little, whether or not they know how to go about it. Crushes exist, and they are most often displayed in crude and disturbing manners. I think I was surprised every year with the sweetness of the boys of Valentine's Day. We didn't have that kind of system where you only gave cards to people you chose and the popular person would have the most. No, everyone gave one to everyone, so no one felt bad about that. Still, when a group of boys and girls hand you little red cards that have some obscure Hallmark message on it, you still feel kind of nice because if they really hated you, they could have continued to be mean that day as well. Valentine's Day was a break from the degradation.

I wish I could have left V. Day in grade school because once you start heading into middle and high school, adolescence puts a sinister twist on the dreaded holiday. It became about having a boyfriend, and thick lines were drawn between those who did and those who did not. I have to say, I don't recall having any truly memorable V-Day because not one sticks out in my mind with the exception of one: sophomore year in high school.

This was a good year for me. I remember loving life. I had met this boy the summer before named Paul. This summer I learned that Cubans can kiss. Anyway, he moved to Florida, and we talked maybe twice over the following six months. Those conversations were awkward and forced. Not the slightest amount of comfort existed in those brief conversations. We did see each other again when I invited him to my winter semi-formal in December. He came only because the ticket was cheap having a relative that worked for an airline. That was fun, but he left the next day, and we didn't talk again.

Come January, I had finally begun to date this boy that I had liked for so long that lived near my school. Devastatingly handsome with a singing and acting talent that moved me, along with full audiences to tears. Sadly, during this round of our twice-attempted relationship, he wasn't a very attentive boyfriend. He was quiet and disinterested. Not a great friend or boyfriend at that time, but our relationship was little more than making-out, and to be honest, that type of relationship would be fine by me today for at least a month. My last few boyfriends just didn't seem to like making-out the way high schoolers do. I have to say, when it comes to making-out, I'll always be a high schooler at heart. Anyway, that Valentine's Day was pretty sweet, bizarre, but sweet. I arrived in school to receive a dozen long-stemmed red roses. I was blown away, but more so because the roses were not from my boyfriend, but the Florida Cuban who had not informed until now that he had considers us to be in a long distance committed relationship for the past 6 months. I swear, we had only talked twice in 6 months, neither or those conversations lasting more than 15 minutes. There was no letter writing, no email at that time. The visit was nice, but it was short-lived. I considered it to be a closure visit. I could not believe he had sent them. I had to call him and thank him, then we never spoke again.

My actual boyfriend was a regular prince charmingnot. I came over to his house where he was watching TV. He didn't get up, and barely looked at me. "There's something in the other room for you." When I walked in, I saw a single rose in a vase. It was strange because he had not handed it to me. So, I walked back into the room and asked if the rose was for me. When he said yes, he still just sat there, so I had to give him this awkward standing person to sitting person hug that was totally unaffectionate and anti-climactic. Well, the relationship would later go on to be one of the most tremendous roller-coaster rides I would experience in my adolescence. I'll save that story for another time.

After that year, not much. I had a boyfriend my senior year. He was my first love. However, he lacked severely in the romance department. Our first date was our 10 month anniversary. We sat there at this restaurant and realized that we had spent the previous 10 months picking up McDonalds or watching TV on a couch. I'm exaggerating a bit. Our relationship was fun and fruitful, and though it had its problems, it was SUCH an amazing time. Still, the boy wasn't very good about V-Day. He had forgotten about it, so he called his father last minute to have him send flowers to me. I have a special kind of flower that I love, which he knew about, but he admitted he didn't look for it, so he went with the standard. Basically, I got some crap flowers from my boyfriend's father. Sure, he was still a sweetie, and of course I was grateful for flowers, but I would have rather had something from his heart, not something he felt obligated to do.

Since then, nothing really. The following year, I was still with that same guy. Again, he forgot to order flowers in advance, so all the stores had sold out of red roses (still not paying attention to the fact that I didn't want red roses.). I came home from class to find a blue vase of 11 yellow roses. So random. I have to say they were really beautiful, and that vase was gorgeous. (where is that vase now? It would be perfect in my room.) Still, the gift was an admitted lack of attention. Didn't matter because we broke up two days later when I discovered some serious flaws in the structure of our committing arrangement.

So, my point is, this day doesn't make any sense. "A day to celebrate lovers." That's as stupid as having a holiday to celebrate rich people. They're already rich, they're whole lives are holidays, why am I supposed to be happy for them? Same goes for lovers. They HAVE someone, if they need a day reserved to remind them that they better feel lucky, then screw them for taking their significant others for granted. What about the rest of us out here? If ANYONE, we're the ones who deserve to be celebrated for going through life without having a romantic lover to lean on when things get rough. There should be a singles day when all single people give tiny gifts to each other for being independent and strong. Most of us really want a companion, and not having one is bad enough than having a day where the lucky ones are worshipped. You can't even go out to eat without it being thrown in your face that you're not getting any loving later that evening.

I don't feel that bitter considering that I don't have any fond memories of Valentine's Day to begin with. Still, it's a bit frustrating and unfair if you ask me. I don't think I lack a Valentine because I suck. Sure, I don't have anyone, but I haven't found anyone I wanted that matches me. Isn't it so strange how difficult it is to find someone? Well, let me amend this statement. Anyone could find anyone, but I mean finding someone that really fits. You can make a list a mile long of requirements, and run out there and find someone who has them all, but that can never guarantee that you'll be chemically attracted. Sparks do NOT compromise. They are there or they're not. Most often, when sparks fly, they're with someone that is not good for you. Good guy, but not good for you. Sometimes, I feel SO close. Sparks flying, amazing qualities line up, but some qualities are missing that are an absolute necessity. I make sacrifices too much in relationships. I get involved to soon discover that this new person isn't the "one." You want him to be the one so badly that you keep going with the thing, when it's using more energy and heart than you should be using on something going no where. I don't think that means I'll not date another person until I bump into someone and whisper to my friend, "That's the man I'm going to marry," but I don't think I should be spending much more time pretending things are working when they're not.

My point is that it sounds so easy. "I want a nice guy who makes me laugh, who thinks I'm funny, who has the same interest in music as I do, who loves Disney, who likes to eat different styles of food, who is well-read, who has direction in his life, motivation, the same ideals for logic and etiquette, who likes to play stupid games, who goes out for coffee, who likes to get drunk but not obliterated, who happens to be attractive, and that I get butterflies in my stomach when I think of him." The list is actually a bit longer, but the thing is, if I put out an ad, I could find someone who fits all of these except one: butterflies. Damn this one. And it's the best one too.

Thing is, right now, I'm not looking. I am too worn out between school, music, this website, my friends, to concentrate ANY more energy on getting to know someone new in a romantic way. I just wish someone were already in that role. Oh well. Luckily, loneliness is an excellent inspiration for music.