Miss Ann Thrope

I hate Valentine’s Day. I hate
everything about it. From the putrid aisles
of red and pink lace hearts (like an over
grown Barbie display), to the powdery con-
versation hearts that never say anything you
really want to say. I hate the pet names and the
scent of super-sweet chocolates wafting from foil
wrapped boxes makes me nauseous. You’re proba-
bly reading this and thinking, “oh she’s just bitter
because no one has ever given her a box of choco-
lates,” and you’re right. In my twenty-one lame years of
existence I have never gotten a Valentine- and I won’t be
getting one this year either (unless of course, you count my
mom and grandma).

My cranky disposition stems all the way back into
childhood, at those grade school V-Day parties where every
child had to give a Valentine to every other child in the class
so that no one would feel left out and we’d all be disillusioned
for the “real” world. It would have been much easier to let
everyone only give Valentines to the people they wanted to,
and then when I didn’t get any the teacher could have
explained, “you didn’t get any Valentines because you’re ugly
and no one really likes you because you have a crummy atti-
tude and you’ll probably NEVER get a Valentine. So deal
with it, kid. Oh! and uh... by the way, Santa Claus isn’t real,
either. Ha ha ha ha...” Then at least, I would have been pre-
pared.

At junior high school, the group Valentine’s Day
torture efforts continued. This time the entire student body
was herded into the gymnasium and made to suffer through a
Valentine Dance with the entire faculty hovering over us to
ensure that no public displays of affection were made. I was
always destined to spend the afternoon screaming “WHAT!?”
to my loser friends over the jammin’ tunes of Vanilla Ice and
The New Kids On The Block (be still my beating heart).

Then on to high school where I literally had to
fight my way through the mounds of hugging, kissing, grop-
ing couples to get to my classes (not that I didn’t already have
to do that everyday, Valentines Day just made it worse). And
then when I did get to class I had to listen to my teacher’s
annual retelling of her Valentine’s Day in college when every
single girl in her dorm got flowers except her. And all I could
do was sit there and think “great, so this is what I have to
look forward to? Just shoot me now.” My thoughts would be
shattered by ear-
piercing squeals -

Congratulations,

your life officially
sucks. A hitman 4
has been hired to \
put you out of .
your misery.
Have a nice

day.

ry

—

Oy tha,

Harry
va LENIENES

This

ree wonderful
meee world of love and
as the °

cheerleaders affection and equal

compared their
teddy bears and

other bounty. Sure, I

was jealous of those
pretty girls who got roses,
chocolates, plush animals,
Valentines and lingerie; often

from three or four different guys
when I couldn’t even get a guy to look
at me.

treatment they had
prepared me for in grade
school.

for everything. (In case you were wondering, he dumped
me a week later, ten minutes before my best friend’s funer-
al because “he loved me” {read: because I wouldn’t put
out!. It was for the better anyway, he was starting to get
on my nerves and I’ve known dogs that can carry a better
conversation and weren’t such drooly kissers.)

I hoped college would be different- that people
wouldn’t blurt out an empty “I love you” to people they
really felt nothing for, but no such luck. Thankfully,
ECIAD doesn’t have cheerleaders so I don’t have to put
up with that, but the day never seems to slip by without
obnoxiousness. Admittedly, in First Year I considered giv-
ing a card to someone. Nothing like “I love you, I want to
have your baby” but more along the lines of “You have
pretty eyes and I think I can tolerate your personality, do
you even know I exist?” (Hallmark was fresh out of those
cards so I had to settle for a Rhen and Stimpy children’s
Valentine). I didn’t give it to him, I chickened out when I
got to his locker and he was standing there with a handful
of Valentines given to him by other girls.

Then someone told me that the Student Union
had put chocolates in everyones’ mail slots (Oh joy!) So I

pathetically raced over to my mail slot and sure enough
there was a chocolate in each and every mail slot save
mine. The mail slot area was a vast red wall of love and
passion, full of chocolates, roses, Valentines and hearts,
and my tiny, empty void of a mail slot. I didn’t even get
a Standard Issue Student Union chocolate, how could
this be? Had I ceased to exist, or did some jerk swipe
mine? Whatever the case, this was not the wonderful world
of love and affection and equal treatment they had pre-
pared me for in grade school.

And this year? Thankfully this year V-
day is on a Sunday so I can avoid most of the
embarrassing rejection by just staying at home. Or

maybe this will finally be the year the government

sends me a telegram, something to the effects of

“Congratulations, your life officially sucks. A

hitman has been hired to put you out of

your misery. Have a nice day.” Then
I can spend the day eluding
snipers and Kung-Foo
fighting. That, at least,

When I finally got a boyfriend, he didn’t have the
balls to give me something at school, the exchange had to be
done in private because he was ashamed to have me as a girl-
friend. He told me that he loved me and I called him a liar
because he had only known me for a month and I hadn’t
given him anything to love; but he swore up and down that he
loved me. He gave me a teddy bear that was so cute I had dry
heaves when I saw it. The bear was even holding a little satin
pillow that said “I love you” on it, but it may as well have said
“JT want to have sex with you” since that is what it really
meant. (Note to self: “I love you” means “I want to fuck
you.”) And I thought, “if you’re just going to use me for sex,
skip the so-cute-you-could-hurl teddy bear and just give me
trashy lingerie.” Looking at kinky underwear might at least
put me in the mood, I mean, who wants to have sex when
you feel like you’re going to puke? Or a card that said “I’m
desperate. Please have sex with me. These are the positions I

like...” would have been nice. I hear Hallmark makes a card

ane

might be kind of fun.

Influx ° Magazine February 1999 |5

was not the

by
4

4
Miss Ann Thrope

hate Valentine's Day Tate
cverything about it. From the putrid aisles
‘of ed and pink lace hears (like an over
frown Barbie display), to the powdery con-
‘versation hears that never say anything you
‘ally want to say Thate the pet names and the
‘Scent of super-seet chocolates wafting from foil
wrapped boxes makes me nauseous You're proba-
bly reading this and thinking, “oh she's ust bitter
because no one has ever given her a box of choco-

‘and you're right. Ia my twenty-one lame years of
existence Ihave never gotten a Valentine- and I won't be
fettng one this year either (unless ofcourse, you count my
‘mom and grandma)

[My cranky disposition stems all the way back into
ildhood, at those grade school V-Day partes where every
child had to give a Valentine to every other child in the clas
0 that no one would fel lft out and wed all be disillusioned
for the “real” world It would have been much easier to let,
cveryone only give Valentines to the people they wanted to,
fand then when I didn’t get any the teacher could have
‘explained, “you didn’t get any Valentines because you're ugly
land no one really likes you Because you have a crummy atti-
tude and you'll probably NEVER get a Valentine. So deal
‘with it Kid. Ob! and uh... bythe way, Santa Claus ist rea,
‘ther. Ha aha ha..?"Then atleast, 1 would have been pre=
pared

A junior high school, the group Valentine's Day
torture efforts continued, This time the entire student body
was herded into the gymnasium and made to suffer through a
Valentine Dance withthe entire faulty hovering over us to
censure that no public displays of affection were made. I was
slays destined to spend the afternoon screaming “WHAT?”
to:my loser friends over the jammin’ runes of Vanilla Tce and.
The New Kids On The Block (be still my beating heat.
‘Then on to high school where I literally had to
fight my way through the mounds of hugging, kissing, grop-
ing couples to get to my classes (not that I didn't already have
to do that everyday, Valentines Day just made it worse). And
then when I did get co class I had to listen to my teacher's
annual retelling of her Valentine's Day in college when every
single girl in her dorm got flowers except her. And all could
do was sit there and think “great, so this what Ihave to
Took forward 10? Just shoot me nov.” My thoughts would be
shattered by ear
piereing squeals

Congratulations,

your life officially
sucks. A hitman
has been hired to
put you out of
your misery.
Have a nice

day.

asthe
‘cheerleaders

1. Sure I
was jealous of those
prety girls who got roses,
chocolates, plush animals,

tines and lingerie; often
from three o four diferent guys
when I couldn't even get a guy to look

‘When I finally got a boyfriend, he didn't have the
balls to give me something at school, the exchange had to be
‘done in private Because he was ashamed 9 have me asa gil-
fiend. He tld me that he loved me and I called him a iar
‘because he had only known me for a month and [hadn't
ven him anything to love; but he swore up and down that he
Toved me, He gave me a teddy bear that was so cute Thad dry
heaves when T saw it.The bear was even holding a litle satin
pillow that said “I love you" on it bu t may as well have said
"T want to have sex with you" since that is what i really
icant. (Note to self “I love you" means “I want to fuck
you") And I thought, “if you're jst going t0 use me for ex,
‘Skip the so-cute-you-could-huel teddy bear and just give me
trashy lingerie.” Looking at kinky undervear might atleast
put me in the mood, I mean, who wants to have sex when
Sou fel like you're going to puke? Or a card tha said “I'm
desperate, Please have sex with me. These are the positions 1
Tike..” would have been nie. I hear Hallmark makes a card

Harpy
YA CENINES

This

was not the

wonderful

world of love and
affection and equal

treatment they had

prepared me for in grade

school.

for everything, (In ease you were wondering, he dumped
re a weck later, ten minutes before my best friend's funer-
al because “he loved me" fread: because I woulda’t put
(ut). Ie was for the better anyway he was starting to get
‘on my nerves and I've known dogs that can carry a better
‘conversation and weren't such drooly kisers)
Thoped college would be diferent- that people
‘wouldn't blurt out an empty “I love you” to people they
really felt nothing for, ut no such luck "Thankfully,
ECIAD doesn’t have cheerleaders 50 I don't ave to put
‘up with tha, but the day never seems to slip by without
jbnoxiousness.Admittedhs in Firstar I considered giv-
ing a card to someone. Nothing like “I love you, {want to
have your baby” but more along the lines of "You have
prety eyes and I think I can tolerate your personality, do
you even know I exis” (Hallmark was fesh out of those
cards so I had to sete fora Rhen and Stimpy children’s
Valentine). I didn’ give itt him, Tchickened out when 1
{got 10 his locker and he was standing there with a handful
‘of Valentines given to im by other gis
Men someone told me that the Student Union
thad put chocolates in everyones’ mal slots (Oh joy!) So I
pathetically raced over to my mail slot and sure enough
there was a chocolate in each and every mail slo save
‘mine, The mail slo area was a vast red wall of love and
passion, full f chocolates, roses, Valentines and hearts,
fd my tiny, empty void oF a mail slot. T didn't even get
4 Standard Tesue Student Union chocolate, how could
this be? Had I ceased to exist, oF did some jerk stipe
‘mine? Whatever the eas, this was not the wonderful world
of love and affection and equal treatment they had pre=
pared me for in grade schoo!

And this ear? Thankfully this year V-
day ison a Sunday so Tean avoid most of the
embarrassing rejection by just staying at home. Or

maybe this wil finally be the year the government
‘ends me a telegram, something tothe elfects of
‘Congratulations, your lie officially sucks.
hitman has been hired to put you out of
= ‘your misery. Have a nice day" Then

Tcan spend the day eluding

‘snipers and Kung-Foo
fighting. That, at last,
‘might be kind of fun,

Influx’ Magazine February 1999 15,