I’m at work. It’s Valentine’s Day- and I’m at work. It’s 02-14-2009 and everyone with girlfriends and boyfriends and people who want to be more than just friends are with their significant other. And I’m alone- at work. Hold on for just one second. Let’s do this from earlier in the week.

It’s the Friday before Valentine’s Day and Target is getting raided like the Bong-smoking Michael Phelps doll just came out. I’m here with my friend who is on a mission to buy a gift to ensure that when he spins his Ipod wheel to John Legend tomorrow he gets the green light from his girlfriend. Hold on again, let’s do this from earlier that day.

Hung over and late to lab as usual, I dread the idea that Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. Seeing people with love in their hearts and no room in their boxer shorts gives me a mental shot to the grapes. I’ve been single for a while now, and its generally on the plus side- no checking in, no worrying about cheating, and trying out all of Barney Stinson’s antics in a very promising How I Met Your Mother-esque bar is surprisingly enjoyable (that’s enjoyable btw, not effective.) But Valentine’s Day is another reminder that more than likely I’ll wake up with a hang over instead of a bad decision looming over my groggy head. First thing that comes to mind:

F*ck Valentine’s Day.

Ok, now back to Target. Just entering the automatic doors and seeing people fly in and out like Harry Potter owls on a mission for the quest of sex gives me the impression we’re not in Kansas anymore. Two steps in and I can already see lines that make the DMV look like Disneyland. Brushing past perturbed husbands and horny boyfriends, we search for a cute triceratops plate through the aisles of Chefmate Waffle Irons and one-dollar St. Patrick’s Day vomit bowls you wear on your head. No Triceratops plates. As the minutes tick by we, by “we” I mean “he” by the way, go over the utter disdain he has for Valentine’s Day, and how forced flowers for forced affection for something even more forced later on that night is what he and every other of his non-single friends await the following Saturday.

It doesn’t help that its all-star weekend. I’m sure it also doesn’t help how I dropped in our earlier conversation that during a dinner (although mixed signals that i may or may not be imagining make it seem date-like, but more on that as it develops) the previous night with a very cute friend of mine, we discovered a place that not only serves amazing wings but 9$ pitchers of New Castle in front of 40 inch TV screens. And I’m more than willing to bet that the fact that all of his roommates are throwing a party Valentine’s Day night for all of the singles in the area, and made it a point to not invite the couples( i.e. him) does not remedy the situation one little bit.

He goes on to tell me that he loves his girlfriend. Heart and Soul. But Valentine’s Day makes him want to punch a baby. One day, he wishes, for a day about men eating wings and drinking beer and watching the all-star weekend- a day where he doesn’t have to force his feelings out because somebody with a suit and a card told him to. A day where he doesn’t have to spend his entire Friday before scavenging through the local Target for exasperating albeit ridiculously cute plates so he can find himself the next day calmly saying “boom goes the dynamite” as the day, and he, finishes. That’s the world he’d someday like to live in. As he finishes saying the word “in” we stumble upon them. Green, horned, smiling triceratops plates with a Sippy cup and matching utensils. After waiting in the Great Depression of 2009 food line to purchase the gifts, we end up outside in darkness. He finishes that particular conversation with a sigh and three words:

F*ck Valentine’s Day.

Which brings us back to today. I’m at work. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m at work. It’s Valentine’s Day, I’m at work, and I’m about to get off, and find myself at a party where all of the cute, drunk, and horny girls of the day find themselves taking a shot with me as I tell them about how we spent the entire day before searching for the cutest triceratops plates that my friend got for his girlfriend and how its awesome to be single.

F*ck me, it’s Valentine’s Day ^_^.