How do I love thee

Ah, Valentine’s Day. Bite me.

Wouldn’t that be a dilly of a pickle if one were to getdumped on the unluckiest day of the year — Friday the 13th— only to be followed by Valentine’s Day?

Why is there even a need for Valentine’s Day in collegewhen people just hookup anyway? Oh, you mean there are actuallypeople in college who invest in mutual funds? Props to them. I gaveup on the market a long time ago. I have neither stocks norfunds.

Perhaps the worst thing about Valentine’s Day is seeingcutesy, over-priced and fart-worthy Valentine memorabiliathat’s bound to be garage sale fodder everywhere you go. Andthose pop-up adds for last-minute flower deliveries and perfectgift ideas under $50 — so annoying.

Last year was the first and last time I’ve ever had areason to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I must have calledthree-dozen restaurants, trying to find one that still tookreservations. And this was two weeks in advance. By the time Ifound one, I had called so many places that I forgot the name ofthat one I was finally able to book. The name of the restaurant wasLombardi Mare, but for some reason, I wanted to call itJoe’s. So we spent a good part of the evening, driving aroundthe shopping center, looking for a place called Joe’s.

Do you remember the third grade, when things were simple? WhenValentine’s Day meant receiving mass-produced, uniformValentine cards from your classmates and decorating paper bags tocontain them? Before love ever came into the picture andcomplicated everything? Before it sucked you in, took you for aride, and then dumped you off in the middle of nowhere?

Well, I’m no longer in the third grade, and things are nolonger simple. I remember a time when I liked my music loud, mybeers cold and my boys hot. The music has since been turned down afew notches, the beer is just a bit warm, and as for boys,I’ve given up on the search for Mr. Right.

These days, all I’m asking for is Mr. Will-Do-For-Now. Buteven that seems like a hopeless cause. I’m even willing tolower the criteria from Perfect to Halfway Decent. Any takers? Ididn’t think so. “Who would want to date a bittercolumnist?”

I’ve got everyone telling me what I should do, and itdoesn’t make sense that I should listen to everyone else whenit comes to what I want.

My mother tells me I should date nice Asian boys. My boss tellsme I should date rich Jewish boys. Girls tell me I should justhookup with frat boys. My sisters tell me I should date men —not boys. And my father … well, he tells me Ishouldn’t date at all: “My dear, we don’t evenbegin to grow up until we’re 30, so I don’t see why youshould even bother now.”

Once upon a time, love was the greatest thing in the world tome. That was before love took a dull knife and stabbed it into mychest, twisted it around, ripped my heart out, threw it into thedirt, kicked it around, stomped on it, kicked it around some more,then butchered it into a hamburger patty, pureed it, set it on fireand fed it to the dog. At which point the dog yacked it up and peedon it as love pointed and laughed.

Yes, I used to love the idea of love and I loved being in love.Are you one of those people? Just wait until love screws you over afew times. That’ll fix you. Oh, that’ll fix you realgood.

A friend asked me what the key to my heart was. I told him thatthere used to not even be a lock. I left my heart wide open untilsome evil men stole from it, thereby causing me to bolt it shutwith a gridiron door, put a huge lock on it, with a sumo wrestlerin front of it.

So anyway, the key to my heart, you ask? There is no key. Thatwould be too easy. There is, however, a combination. You eitherknow that combination or you have to listen to my heart veryclosely, as well as your own, to find that combination that willlead you past the fat guy, the lock and the bolted doors.

I asked my friend that same question, and his response was:”Sex. Yep, sex is the key to my heart.” Thank you,Keith. You are such a guy.

What is Valentine’s Day?

Is it just a holiday created by card and candy companies? Is ita celebration exclusive to couples?

Is it a celebration of people who have been fortunate enough tohave learned what it means to love and be loved in return?

No, no. It is a reminder for those of us who are single that weare alone on this day and the other 364 days of the year.

Ann Truong is a columnist for The Daily Campus.  She maybe reached at [email protected].