Thursday, February 07, 2008

Valentines Day.

Valentines Day.
Buying cards for all the girls in class. Remember that? God I hated that. You would go to the local Walgreen's and buy one of those 30 packs of cards that had bright red hearts or Kittens on them. All I ever did was write, Happy Valentines Day.
Joe. That was it. I never got a card that said anything other than the same thing. Not even an X or an O. Once, in 6th grade I did get a card from a girl in class that said more. However, on closer inspection it turned out she had put the wrong card in the envelope with my name on it.
All it said was, "Your good at kick ball!"
Hey it was the 6th grade. That was pretty much the equivalent of getting engaged back then.
Then there was the candy hearts with those short romantic sayings on them. You could eat about ten of those hearts before your mouth felt like chalk and your stomach became coated in the sweet sick flavor of cheap candy. I have always thought that these little self-esteem messages printed in candy ink would look pretty good on antidepressants. The best thing about this holiday was that it took time out of class. I was always in favor of anything that did that. We had about 30 minuets where we handed out our cards and candy to each other. We sat down at our desks and opened the cards. Occasionally, someone got more than just the required bare minimum message. They turned red and when recess came, we teased them mercilessly.
Looking back on it all, I see it for the socialization that it was. Getting us ready for dating, I suppose. Or rejection depending on what your cards said. From first grade on you learned to buy something for this day. Maybe that was the real lesson after all.
I remember being jealous of anyone who got a card that said something more. But at the same time, I realized that this jealousy had something to do with wanting girls to notice me. It was about 4th grade when I started noticing that my throat got dry around a few girls.
What was that?
Did that mean I liked girls? I wanted to say something to them, but my throat would just close shut in a heart beat. Maybe I was allergic to them? It wasn't unheard of. There was that episode of the Brady Bunch where Jan became allergic to Tiger, the family dog. If it could happen with a person and a dog, why not a person and a girl? That was my reasoning capabilities at the time.
I didn't tell anyone about my diagnosis.
By 6th grade, I knew I wasn't allergic to girls. I also knew that I did indeed like them for being girls. 6th grade is also about the time that you start writing a bit more than just a quick Happy Valentine's Day on those cards. It seemed way to possible to be made fun of if you wrote something truly honest. No one I knew ever just wrote, I like you. Maybe they did. It's not like I was hanging out with the cool crowd. That seemed like you would be setting yourself up for drama.
Now I can see the start of what was later in my life to be called intimacy issues.

7th grade I was sent to a private Catholic school. They didn't do the cards at all. I don't know for sure, but I suspect it had something to do with the idea that romance and all it could lead to wasn't an idea they wanted in our heads. Still, girls would leave lunch period with roses or those big red velvet box's of chocolate tucked under their arms. They were always the ultra-hot ones too. That was a fun social experiment for anyone with self-esteem to watch.
A handful of girls walked away with prizes for their beauty while the rest of us chewed on candy hearts and sharpened our dagger stares. I remember a guy getting a huge thing of Roses one year in 8th grade. I'm not sure who looked more red, him or the roses.
Is there a holiday with a bigger mind fuck attached to it?
If you don't have a date your a looser. If you do have a date, your broke.
There was a famous study done some years back. The biggest fear of most American men is not having enough money. The biggest fear of American women is gaining weight. Have fun on your date kids! A date sparks the number one fear in both sexes. A man leaves with less money and the woman leaves with more calories.


Anonymous said...

...and if its the perfect date then they both leave horny, and disappointed, each for their own reason.
Happy (early) stickin' V-Day

Joe said...

sorry red. But there was a lot of wild life in the park.