St. Valentine's Day (It's Also David Vyborny Day)

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Ah, Valentine’s Day, a day for lovers to revel in the euphoria of their undying love for each other and for singles to abjectly scorn the day as a tacky greeting card inspired holiday and vow that even if they were in a relationship they’d still feel the same.

It seems that for as long as I can remember our attitudes toward Valentine’s Day have always fallen under the categories of love it or hate it. There’s not a whole lot of middle ground. If you’re in a relationship you either love spending every day since New Year’s planning endearing Valentine’s surprises for your partner, like leaving a trail of little cinnamon hearts in the park which lead to a tall willow tree and under the tall willow tree is a cute widdle teddy bear cradling some ridiculously expensive gift such as a necklace or ring or some such thing in its arms, or you hate the day because you abhor feeling obligated to plan lame Valentine’s surprises for your partner, like leaving a trail of little cinnamon hearts in the park which lead to a tall willow tree and under the tall willow tree is a cute widdle teddy bear cradling some ridiculously expensive gift such as a necklace or ring or some such thing in its arms because your partner will hate you if you don’t.

We singles regard the day with less divisiveness than our coupled cousins: we all hate it. Valentine’s Day is no stroll in the tulips for us. It’s more of a stroll through the brier patch—barefoot. To single people, Valentine’s Day is like a trip to the psychiatrist’s office, only the shrink is ourselves. We spend the whole day running self-administered evaluations and diagnostic surveys. “Why am I alone on Valentine’s Day?” “Is it because I’m not desirable?” “Why am I not desirable?” “I mean, I’m funny, I’m smart.” “Right?” “Do I have bad breath?” “Body Odor?” “Is it because I’m crazy?” “No, I’m not crazy.” “Well then why am I having this interior dialogue with myself?” And it just gets worse from there. Plus it certainly doesn’t help our situation that everywhere there are reminders of what we haven’t yet found. Every couple walking down the street hand in hand is a reminder of the companion we don’t have. Every heart shaped pizza at BP’s a reminder that we have no one to share it with. Every chocolate a deceptively bitter reminder that no one thought fondly enough of us to make a gift of it; we had to buy it from the discount bin at Wal-Mart for half price. And then there’s that little bastard cupid. When you’re a vulnerable single on Valentine’s Day, you can’t escape the bare-bottomed babe. He’s everywhere, firing his arrows at us, killing our fragile sense of self worth. Given all this, it’s little wonder then that a few years back some of my single friends got together, ordered pizzas (not the heart shaped variety from BP’s), and spent the evening watching horror movies, likely cheering every time Freddy Krueger diced up a happy couple.

Perhaps the worst thing about Valentine’s Day though is that singles can’t talk about it with their coupled friends, not without a fight ensuing at any rate. Coupled persons, for instance, can’t tell their single friends about how they just bought a beautiful and ridiculously expensive necklace for their true love and they’re going to hide it in the park under the tall willow tree cradled in the arms of cute widdle teddy bear with a trail of hearts to follow unless they wish to get clobbered upside the head by a beer mug. Conversely, singles can’t tell their coupled friends about how miserable they feel on Valentine’s Day and how the whole thing is just a stupid card industry inspired holiday anyway because their friends will invariably respond by saying that (I can hear all you coupled people preparing the speech already), “Oh, don’t be so bitter. You’re only saying that because you haven’t met the right person yet.” Unfortunately, these touching words of consolation, or more accurately, condensation, seldom serve to sooth singles but rather incite them to reach for that beer mug.

Of course, such juvenile bickering resolves nothing. But how then are we supposed to reconcile all this Valentine’s Day turmoil? Well, try moving Japan. I did. Not for the sole purpose of escaping Valentine’s Day mind you, but it has since occurred to me that February 14th is just another day here. Well, that isn’t entirely true. Valentine’s Day is observed here to a certain extent, but as with so many other aspects of their lives, the Japanese are low key about it. Sure, if you were to wander into any pastry shop around Hiroshima, you’d be well and truly inundated with hearts and cupids and all that, but really, that’s about it. Some department stores have a limited selection of Valentine’s Day paraphernalia available, but the volume and variety in no way matches what you’d find at your local Wal-Mart. Nor at your local Department of Motor Vehicles office for that matter. Of the purely Valentine’s Day paraphernalia that is available, it is nearly indistinguishable amidst all the other cutesy crap available in Japan. I mean, a Hello Kitty Valentine’s Day gift box looks exactly like a Hello Kitty any-other-time-of-the-year gift box. What’s more, based on what I’ve seen, there’s also a lack of Valentine’s Day specials. No sweethearts’ discount down at the movie theatre. No heart shaped pizza at the Italian restaurant. And there are certainly no Valentine’s Day parties at school and therefore no Ralph Wiggums I choo-choo-choose you and there’s a picture of a train pity cards. As anyone relegated to the furthest depths of single-tude can attest, this all comes as a welcome respite from western Valentine’s Day exuberance.

While on the subject of Valentine’s Day in Japan, there is one other small, nearly insignificant, difference between the observance of Valentine’s Day in Japan as compared to western countries. In Japan it is the females who give Valentine’s Day presents to their guys. Of course, exactly one month later, on March 14th, a day known as White Day, the guys are expected to reciprocate their gals’ generosity three fold. But at least the fellows have a month’s advance notice to plan what they’re going to do. Having the females make the first move on Valentine’s Day is really quite sensible and is something we may want to consider adopting in our culture, particularly where forgetful boyfriends are concerned. That one month’s advance notice could potentially save a lot of grief and heartache. Also, for those obtuse fellows out there, come Valentine’s Day you may just be lucky enough to have a young lady whose fancy you’ve captured muster up the courage to present you with a small token of her affection. I for one was such a fellow this Valentine’s Day. Some anonymous admirer down at the Japan Educational Exchanges and Services Foundation sent me the results for the Japanese Language Proficiency Test I wrote last December, and wouldn’t you know it, I passed. I didn’t just pass though. I passed the exam then circled back around so I could pass it again. Yes, I am really quite pleased with myself. I guess the 4x3 photo I had to submit along with my test application paid off. Obviously it caught someone’s eye. Now I just need to decide what I’m going to do for them on White Day.

Have a happy—or miserable—Valentine’s Day everyone.

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Comments

[kelsey]

W0oT!!
YAY! for passing the exam!! now you don't have to feel so silly!!! i'll be spending valentines day drinking beer with me friends and giving out wacky french valentines. i don't know what they say... i think one says "you are a princess". and hey, i can be miserable on v-day and be in a couple! best of both!! w0oT!

[Cherylka]

Happy Valentines Day, Ken! Thanks for the smile remembering "I choo, choo, choose you!" Ah, the love of Ralph! Take care, I'm off to watch a horror movie!