I've always had a problem with people who felt super strongly about Valentine's Day in either direction.
If you HATE Valentine's Day with all your heart and feel the need to lock yourself in your room while you post angry tweets about people who actually managed to find love, I have a problem with you because you are CLEARLY a pathetic loser with nothing more pressing to worry about.
If you LOVE Valentine's Day and see it as an excuse embarrass your significant other with giant bouquets of red roses sent to their office and Instagram posts about how deeply in love you are, I have a problem with you because, well, you're really annoying and we probably have nothing in common.
So I guess you could say that I've always prided myself on being indifferent towards Valentine's Day. I don't care enough to love it and I don't care enough to hate it.
That is, until this year.
A few weeks ago, I was roaming through the aisles of Rite Aid, which was adorned with all sorts of cute pink and red decorations, when I noticed something weird... I was excited.
Yep, you read that correctly, people. Those cut up tacky little pink and red hearts were filling my heart with a pang of joy and excitement.
I tried to suppress the feeling, but the same feeling came right back up again a few days later when my boyfriend asked what I wanted to do for Valentine's Day.
Our conversation went a little like this.
"So, what are you thinking for Valentine's Day?" he asked.
You're a cool girl, my inner voice cried out. You don't care about that stuff! Nothing! You wanna do nothing!
But I couldn't help myself. "How about we go to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner, then I'll talk to my mom and see if we can borrow her apartment up town for the night?"
First of all, in case you thought the Cheesecake Factory was my chill, NBD option, you should know the Cheesecake Factory is my all-time favorite restaurant, and there are no Cheesecake Factories in New York City, so we would literally have to travel to another state (New Jersey) to get to one.
My boyfriend, unlike you, knows this information.
So that's it. It was out there: I care about Valentine's Day.
The worst part is, I don't just casually care about it in an "I'd be down to do something if the opportunity presented itself and it really meant something to you" sort of way.
No, I care about it in a "let's go to another state to celebrate at my ridiculous favorite restaurant, then go out of my way to ask my mom if I can borrow her apartment that's specifically for work so I can have an entire romantic evening for just the two of us" sort of way.
[visualquote color="rgba(241, 108, 101, .80)"]The worst part is, I don't just casually care about it in an "I'd be down to do something if the opportunity presented itself and it really meant something to you" sort of way.
No, I care about it in a "let's go to another state to celebrate at my ridiculous favorite restaurant, then go out of my way to ask my mom if I can borrow her apartment that's specifically for work so I can have an entire romantic evening for just the two of us" sort of way.[/visualquote]
To put it in HIP MILLENNIAL terms, I'm in no way, shape or form "chill" about Valentine's Day.
My biggest issue over this lies within: Am I now a member of the second category of people I mentioned earlier? Have I now become someone I am going to have a problem with?!
No, I don't want red roses sent to my office, and no, I don't plan on posting a sappy Instagram when the holiday rolls around.
But the fact of the matter is, Valentine's Day is this Tuesday and I'm freaking stoked about it.
Not indifferent. STOKED.
And yet my state of total excitement has to be dampened by this other part of myself that is so freaking embarrassed for feeling this way.
I mean, what's next? A year from now, am I gonna be one of those girls who forces her boyfriend to go on a juice cleanse with her, then go on a hike and take a selfie of the two of us at the peak, only to post it on Instagram the following Monday with caption "#MCM" followed by, like, 80 heart-eye emojis?!
Are we going to go apple picking in the fall NOT for the delicious apples, but for the cute Instagrams I'm going to take of us standing under the trees in our matching sweaters (yes, we own matching sweaters in this particular nightmare and they say "In love with" followed by arrows that point to each other)?!
Or, if I'm single next year, am I going to cry when Valentine's Day rolls around and throw food at the couples walking by around me and make angry Facebook statuses about "Singles' Awareness Day"?
Where does it end?
The scariest part is, at this point in my life, I honestly don't know.
If we've reached a point where I'm actually excited about Valentine's Day, WHO KNOWS what other lame things God has in store for my future?
All I do know for sure is that people evidently change. And that doesn't always have to be such a bad thing.
I'm excited about Valentine's Day because I'm excited to have a fun night with my boyfriend, doing fun things we both like to do. It pained me to write that sentence because I know how basic I sound, but that's all it really comes down to.
I guess at the end of the day, the feeling of excitement only has to be dampened by the cringeworthy embarrassment if I let it be.