Valentine’s Day is stupid.

I hate Valentine’s Day.

There, I said it.

And coming from a ‘gift person’, this says a lot.

On paper, Valentine’s Day and I should seem like soul mates. A perfect match. Like I said, if you actually buy into that whole “5 love languages” thing, I am a gifts person and acts of service person. So, really, a gift born by marketers and centered on gift exchange should be right up my alley, right?

Only it isn’t.

I used to buy into the Valentine’s Day craze.

Back in the days when I was young (And stupid.) (With way too many emotions.) (And hormones.), I longed to have a fabulous Valentine’s Day lavished on my attention-hungry heart by a boy. Given that I was 60-lbs overweight and my on and off boyfriend never got me so much as a birthday card in all the years we were dating, I was pretty much screwed as far as that scenario coming to pass. Oh, I was envious of the girls that meandered down the halls of Good Ole’ Bountiful High in their cheerleader outfits, their arms full of teddy bears and heart-shaped chocolate boxes and Mylar heart balloons trailing behind them that were PROOF! THAT! THEY! HAD! BOYFRIENDS! THAT! LOVED! THEM! AND! THE! MYLAR! BALLOONS! TO! PROVE! IT!

I was always so crushed and disappointed when those things never happened to me. I actually thought that receiving these things meant you were loved and somehow more worthy of happiness or, I don’t know, breathing, than the rest of humanity.

If you didn’t get a Valentines Day gift you were in that category of un-loveable schmucks that stayed at home on Saturday Nights eating Cheese Wiz and Rocky Road ice cream and writing Ugly Betty fan fiction.

I’ve pretty much ascertained over the years that that is a bunch of bullshit.

I’ve been fiercely and passionately loved and I am pretty sure that I don’t need a cheesy holiday to reinforce that knowledge.

I’m not sure when I began actively despising the hoopla that is Valentine’s Day, but I simply cannot STAND IT.

That feeling was was reinforced today at the grocery store when I was surrounded by rows of pink and red JUNK and the announcer droning on and on about how “all the ladies could come on down to the butcher and get a big t-bone for your man and then when he turns to you later in the year and says, ‘Honey, can you make me a steak tonight?’ you can say, ‘Why, no, Earl! Don’t you remember that I bought you that big, juicy T-bone at XXXX supermarket for Valentine’s Day! You just can’t beat that! ha, ha, ha!’”

(I may take flack for it but many Utahans can have really cheesy and/or lame senses of humor.) (For the most part we, on average, are also horrible dancers that should never attempt to sing gospel music.) (This does not prevent every high school and college choir in the state from attempting both, however.)

As I listened to the cheesy supermarket announcer and watched a kid get drowned by several red chocolate boxes as the display fell over on him, I longed to just tell this holiday TO SHOVE IT.

It all feels so forced.

So fake.

It just doesn’t seem genuine at ALL.

People bitch and moan about how commercialized Christmas is, but that holiday still has a lot of heart and spirituality to it.

This is just…

Crap.

That certainly doesn’t mean that the people or relationships involved in exchanging gifts of love today are horrible or are fake or not genuine. I am not saying that I turn up my nose at Valentine’s Day gifts or don’t go to dinner with my husband, I’m just saying that it’s all so, so, SO commercial that it turns my stomach.

People shouldn’t have to look for a day to see that they’re loved.

I certainly don’t need a day circled on my calendar to tell or show people I love them.

That’s EVERY day in my world.

And may it always stay that way.