Before I met Ty I was absolutely convinced that V-Day was the worst holiday ever invented to torment single people. I mean, it was literally the one day out of the year that blatantly reminded me for weeks on end (with all those stupid V-day store displays and promos) that I was having zero sex, unless you counted my vibrator. I didn’t. That thing took up a zillion batteries and died rather quickly (too quickly). Add to the fact that some of my friends and classmates took the damn holiday for granted, and I was in Hell every February 14th. My conversations with said friends often went like this:

Me: So what are you doing for V-day?

Them: We’re actually not doing anything at all. I’m working and so is he.

Me: You’re telling me you actually have a shot at getting sex and you’re not taking it??? You fucking suck. I would KILL to have a man to spoil me and give me orgasms nightly.

Suffice to say I spent those years of singledom hating V-Day and writing angsty fanfiction. In fact, I once broke up my couple in my novel just because I wasn’t getting laid, so why should my characters be so lucky? Yes, I was bitter.

Then I met Ty and we celebrated our first V-day the way one would expect: Tons of presents, a nice dinner, dessert, a romantic bubble bath and a hot night of unbridled passion. But after that one V-day, we stopped caring so much.

I know what you’re thinking. The love has gone out of our marriage. You would be wrong. I am more in love with Ty now, on our 6th V-day together, than I was that night I was eagerly getting all dressed up for our date. But as for V-day, not much love there.

Our exchange last week went something like this:

Him: So I was thinking about Valentine’s Day.

Me (thinking): We’re actually doing that this year? Crap!

Me (talking): What about it?

Him: I think we should make our presents this year.

Me (thinking): Since when do we do presents? I figured I’d just make the usual heart-shaped cookies, draw a card and call it a day!

Me (talking): Uh, okay….


But seriously, what the fuck? I was totally willing to pretend this day didn’t exist! We went out in January for a celebratory dinner (Ty quit smoking) and I figured that could double as V-day. Apparently not. My husband is completely impractical and sentimental when it comes to February 14th and actually cares about that shit. Uh, I guess, lucky me? I mean, most wives complain that their men forget V-day so I should be grateful mine isn’t like that. Right? I’m supposed to care?

Except I don’t. It’s ironic, really. I spent years of singledom whining about how I didn’t have a date for V-day and now I’m like “why are we celebrating this mundane, busy, stupid day?”

So how do I loathe thee, V-Day? Let me count the ways.

1) The hype around it. Any other day of the year I can get away with doing little things for my man to show I care and it’s more than enough, but today? Forget surprising him with fresh baked goodies or offering to cook dinner, I actually have to come up with something “special”.

2) I don’t have a hell of a lot of time to come up with something. I have a 9 month old son to entertain and keep alive every day. Do you think I have a spare moment to think up what V-day presents I could get my hubby? Or make a card? Or do anything, really? No, I really don’t. Stay at home moms work just as hard as working moms, except our boss is a pint-sized, screaming child who demands constant attention while we complete our daily to-dos like dishes, laundry and anything else that needs doing.

3) The last thing I want is to go out on the busiest day of the year, barring a REAL holiday. And yet this year we are going on a double date with a younger, childless couple. It’s just dinner and a movie, but still, it’s going to be packed and we had to already change our plans (thankfully we’re no longer going into downtown Vancouver, so that saves time on the commute) so finding a place to eat is now going to be fun. And by fun, I mean annoying, stressful, and so not worth it.

4) Going out means leaving the baby with Grandpa for more than a few hours. Now, for formula feeders this is probably no big deal, but I chose to breastfeed because I hate cleaning bottles. But now, even though we do have milk for tonight (I always freeze extra bags) I have to take my breastpump with us tonight and somehow manage to pump either in the bathroom of the restaurant or the bathroom at the movies. Because if I don’t I guarantee I’m going to look like Pamela Anderson after three hours and we’re going to be gone from 5pm until possibly midnight. So yeah, you do the math there.

5) Prep for this night out has to start at 3pm. That just means I need to shower, shave, do my hair, get dressed, put on makeup, and at the same time I’ve got to keep an eye on the baby. Because he’s going to be clinging to me the whole time and there’s nobody home to watch him for me. So yeah, this is already not going to be fun.

6) Before the 3pm prep I also need to clean the house and get things out for Grandpa. Yes, I’m taking a short break to type this out because holy crap I haven’t even had a chance to sit down since I got up at 10am today (after nursing baby through the night, because he’s teething and wants to sleep with Mommy and will scream bloody murder if he’s left in his crib). I had to wash the one bottle, the sippy cups, and make sure we have his milk and food defrosted for him. Oh, and I have to clean up the house a bit too. All this with a toddler crawling around and getting into shit because he will scream if he’s left in his play pen. Like he’s doing right now as I type this.

7) I am going to be too tired for sex tonight. That’s not to say we won’t try to get lucky tomorrow morning, but seriously, the only thing about V-day that mattered to me was getting laid. I’m not even in the mood to do it right now, with lack of sleep and a screaming baby, kind of takes me out of the moment. Plus, I really just want to sleep.

And that, my friends, is why this day sucks! I’m expected to be in the mood for love and I’m just not. I just wanted to stay in, watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch. And now I have to get all dressed up and go out with my husband and be like all the other couples on this hellish day, and smile and be happy even though 10pm is WAY too late for me to want to start a movie at the theatre and I think our friends are insane for suggesting such a thing.

Crap. Does this mean I’m old now?