For a day that's all about "love," Valentine's Day seems to bring on the hate-fueled passion like no other holiday. Hollywood has named films after the V-Day hate. And there's nothing like a singleton snidely deriding it as a "Hallmark holiday" to take your lust down a notch or two.
But is all this V-day vitriol really fair? It's just one day when people simultaneously make our stomachs turn with the PDA and prop up the floral industry. Not to mention there's nothing sweeter than a little kid with a macaroni and glue covered heart telling his mom he will love her forever.
No, Valentine's Day isn't the problem. Valentine's Day cliches are the problem. If we want to bring back the love, the following cliches must die:
It's sex night: Hmm ... where to begin with what's wrong with this one. OK, let's start here: what's more sexless than flannel PJs and socks in bed? Scheduling sex.
Cupid: Of all the gods they could have chosen to associate with the "love" day, do they pick a sexy Adonis? No, they go for a fat baby with a penchant for shooting you in the ass with something pointy. Let's get this straight. If you take one look at a cherub and think sex, you're one step away from pedophilia. Now that you're appropriately skeeved, let's drop the association, shall we?
Stuffed animals holding hearts: Stuffed animals make a great present. When you're 6. Sadly, you can't even donate these dust collectors to the local children's hospital anymore. So let's just leave them on the convenience store shelf.
Cardboard heart boxes stuffed with chocolates: Is there anyone out there who likes every chocolate in a sampler box? Save your money, guys. At least you know we'll like the flavor of each M&M in the bag. (P.S. Believe it or not, there are women who, gasp, don't even like chocolate. Feel free to buy her her own bag of Doritos if that's her thing. She'll appreciate you all the more for catering to her tastes.)
Cards: See above, Hallmark holiday. Because the requirement that you hand over a piece of paper with a soppy sentiment written by someone else and then mass produced somehow makes your special love sound awfully ordinary.
What cliches do you need to see die before you buy into the love?
Image via Sister72/Flickr