i hate valentine's day?

Nothing tarnishes grade-school Valentine's Day cards like fresh vomit.
At least that's what I learned in fourth grade, when I barfed midway through the obligatory card exchange time. The temporary disappointment was harsh, but more severe was the 15-year curse the experience initiated. You might think I'm kidding. I'm totally not.
I've never had a date on Valentine's Day, which is bad in and of itself. However, stuff actually happens to make me feel even worse about being alone. Like that chocolate fortune ("Be your own valentine") I wrote about in last week's column. Or the year I got a homemade meal...from a 38-year-old guy who lived with his mom. Yeah. It wasn't even good.
But the worst year ever was when the former man of my dreams sent me an e-mail Feb. 14 outlining the many victories he'd achieved in the sack with his new girlfriend. I still remember rushing home after work and not even taking my red business suit off before sobbing like a humpback whale on my bed.
Believe it or not, this blog entry is not designed to solicit stalkers or ignite gift offers...although I will be accepting flowers throughout the remainder of the week.
Here's the thing, though. I still don't entirely despise Feb. 14. I don't even call it Singles Appreciation Day. I get a rush out of watching people scramble for last-minute gifts and sneak out of work early for formal dinners.
It's beautiful, and even more beautiful is my faith in the fact that one day, I really will find a relationship with 364 romance-filled days that outweigh one annual run-in with a vomit-inspired curse.
Wow. I am such a girl. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. Save some of Starship's inventory for me.