Social Commentary/Love

Don’t Get Me Anything for Valentine's Day!

Love wasn’t proved in a day

Let me begin with “This is a piece about Valentine’s Day.” But I’d like to digress for a minute.

My son asked me during Black History Month, “Why does black history only get a month?”

I answered, “Don’t you watch the news? We’re lucky they get a month.”

He looked at me funny. He’s eleven. All his news comes from Tik Tok and YouTube.

I followed up. “Did you see how the government tried to blame BLM protests for the white supremacist temper tantrum insurrection during the impeachment hearing? You think those people even want to give black history a month?”

My son looked me over. “I’m gonna need some Skittles if I have to keep listening to this.”

But, I digress. I was talking about Valentine's Day. I don’t think anything authentic happens in a day.

Valentine's day is like a hostage situation, but for lovers. Instead of the hostage holding a newspaper up in front of them, to prove they’re still alive, you have to buy a box of chocolates for your lover to prove you’re still in love?

Once when I was 19, a boy brought me some of those tiny, pastel, candy hearts that taste like big sugary teeth. We had broken up the day before, and he wanted me to know that he still loved me. I was, hands down, the world's worst girlfriend. I was totally unworthy of a Valentine's Day gift, even one from the Walgreens across the alley. He showed up at my door, holding this pink flimsy box of chalky candy, etched with kindergarten love declarations. He handed it to me like it was a diamond necklace. I knew I was supposed to be all ‘Ouu, Ahh’ but, as usual, I was underwhelmed. “These old?” I asked, biting into one. He said the 19-year-old boy version of, “You’re a hard woman to love.” I said the 19-year-old version of, “You should date someone who’s nice.”

I told my husband not to get me anything this year. “Please,” I begged. “I’m not kidding. If you get me anything, we’ll end up fighting.” So, he didn’t. And I love it. It’s the best Valentine's ever because nobody’s getting in a fight. Nobody’s getting disappointed. Nobody’s underreacting to stale chocolate.

When I just stood up, just a minute ago, to refill my coffee, I saw a heart-shaped box hiding behind the coffee mugs. Oh lord. What was he thinking? Didn’t he hear me? Did he want to fight? Was that my fate with Valentine’s Day, being underwhelmed and petty?

I don’t know how to fix the world. I don’t know how to make Black History Month as long as White History Year. I don’t know why we need to prove love one day a year. I think what bothers me the most about these little symbols of love and equality, is that they’re symbols. They shouldn’t be something we occasionally shine a light on. They should be how we live, love, and respect one another, every day.

Let me end with, this might not be a piece about Valentine’s Day. This might be a piece about America.