February. Objectively the hardest month to spell. Chock full o’ holidays: A celebration of Black History, a day dedicated to a Groundhog’s shadow, and…
Valentine’s Day. The Hallmark Holiday that celebrates couples and encourages them to declare that they are, against all odds, in love. Well. February 14th has never been about a partner for me.
Let’s take a brisk walk down memory lane. I’m eight years-old and going to the 99-cent store to buy my Valentines. I agonize over Spongebob or Scooby Doo cards, (zoinks!) then fill them out, meticulously drawing hearts around Jake A’s name. On the big day, decked out in pinks and reds, I distribute and collect Valentines from the whole class, and practically swoon as Jake A. drops a Power Ranger Valentine onto my desk: Does my name have a heart next to it too, or was that just a chocolate smudge? Still unclear, but by the end of the day, I’m on a sugar high and feeling absolutely adored.
Where is that little Valentine-loving girl now? At 23, I feel like a spinster. I have friends who are getting engaged. Engaged! I can’t even get a text back!
Recently, a guy I liked asked me what my favorite holiday was. In an attempt to seem cool, I said, “Eh. Don’t really have one.” What a lie.
This year, I’m getting in touch with my inner eight-year-old and coming out as a hopeless romantic: I love Valentine’s Day! I can’t wait to spend the day being my own Valentine. ❏
Lucy Grebin is an LA-based actor and comedian.
