Analysis: Why I turned into a Valentine’s Day Grinch
Lover’s Day is observed on February 14th. I was a lover once, a trained lover boy, to be exact. Or at least until I had a Valentine’s Day from hell, that’s what I believed myself to be.
You see, I was proud of Valentine’s Day until I turned into the Grinch who stole the day. You would think I was Cupid myself, I was so proud.
It all began in second grade, when I would beg my mother to purchase ornate cards and heart-shaped Reese’s cups for every young lady in my class, including my teacher, Ms. Dee. As a result, every girl in my class liked me. A couple of the jealous males in my class also started to pick on me. I was an opp, which is slang for opponent or enemy, as the Gen Z folks say. It didn’t bother me. I cherished rivalry.
I became really interested in poetry during middle school, and as a result, I started writing love poems. Although my girlfriend from seventh grade believed I was “deep,” my poems were terrible in retrospect. She kept my poetry, “I love you like a fat kid loves cake,” in a large binder with other pictures, a practice popular in the early 2000s.
I had moved from buying V-Day gifts from the Dollar Store to getting my then-girlfriend a Build a Bear when I got to high school. Engrossed in our puppy love, we would give our bear a sweet nickname and let Nextel “chirp” all night.
Being a poor college student, I had to think outside the box. I would set aside just enough money from my tax refund check to purchase one heart balloon and edible arrangement fruit displays. If I didn’t have any money, I would organize a romantic campus scavenger hunt that would eventually take my sweetie to a private spot—usually the library—where we would cuddle, giggle, and kiss.
However, my passion, inventiveness, and competitive spirit for Valentine’s Day came to a stop in 2013 while I was seeing a young woman—we’ll call her Shaylah—after graduating from college.
I thought Shaylah was perfect. So flawless, in fact, that every time I saw her, the Nelly and Kelly song “Dilemma” would play in my head. Her light brown eyes and slicked-down baby hairs would gleam, and her black, crinkly hair seemed to always blow in the breeze. She also always had a buttercream scent to her.
Standing at 5’3″, she possessed the body of a goddess, as the legendary T-Pain would say. When she smiled, her flawless dimples, which could fit a Hershey Kiss, revealed her smoothest butter-pecan complexion.
Shaylah was kind, intelligent, and soft-spoken. She was also just out of college, like me, but she was lucky enough to land an entry-level position with the government. Her ability to express herself clearly both in professional and social settings gave her an air of confidence that some could even describe as fiery. I also enjoyed hot women.
On the other extreme of the post-undergrad spectrum, to be exact. Still thinking things out and caught up in the exhilaration of graduation. I had not yet secured employment worthy of my four-year degree, and I continued to live in a fraternity home with my roommates.
I was a full-time employee at H&M, handling everything from clothing folding to loss prevention. Shaylah was pretty thrilled with my style, so I always had a nice fit when I brought her out because of that gig. She would say, “You really know how to put it together.”
And even though I was constantly finding ways to make ends meet after paying my rent, buying food (mostly from Chipotle), and breadcrumbing my Sallie Mae student loans, I never had a lot of money. I would go above and beyond to set up dates and bring little presents as surprises for Shaylah. In addition, I was living beyond my means.
Our first Valentine’s Day, I think, marked the end of our honeymoon phase and the reveal of my February 14 strategies, which caused a shift in the dynamics of our dating.
It was a work day on Valentine’s Day, so we had decided to stay home and exchange gifts at my house. I got takeout and Sutter Home moscato, and I had a great start to the evening.
Because I’d been socialized to believe that V-Day wasn’t about me, I opened my gift first. I started to play a drum roll in my head, and Shaylah opened hers next.
This is the point where you picture Shaylah’s face with Kanye West grinning before it becomes furrowed. “Oh, Wallace,” she blurted out, her voice sweet but uninterested. “This is quite pleasant.” She froze, at a loss for words. “However, how about getting me a Michael Kors watch the next time rather than just a plain Guess watch?
My heart fell. It felt if all the years I had spent honing my love skills had vanished. I thought I was God’s gift to women and that I was perfect when it came to Valentine’s Day gifts. However, her remarks were savage, and my self-assurance vanished in an instant. Though we didn’t fight that evening, I abandoned the relationship a few weeks later because my ego was so damaged.
That experience made me realize how fragile and powerful the male ego is, since I was never able to get over my feelings of inadequacy around birthdays and gift-giving occasions. Every time I considered it, I froze and stiffened up. The happiness I used to have from giving was eclipsed by my fear of being let down.
That same worry permeated every relationship that followed, turning me from the kind of guy who thought presents should come from the heart into someone who detested giving them. I hated Valentine’s Day so much that I let my resentment fester and ruin my attempts at showing kindness everywhere. It became gift “anxiety” for me.
However, time has healed the wounds. And I understand that presents are not the end product of love, but rather a component of it. The true meaning of a present should be its purpose, love, and sincerity, not its cost. I now recognize this, and I approach gift-giving with discretion and caution.
I’m prepared to continue where I left off on this Valentine’s Day. Whether that means making a romantic meal, arranging a date, crafting a card, or compiling a playlist of ’90s R&B songs, I’m prepared to play the priest from SuperFly of Valentine’s Day—just kidding.
Greetings on Valentine’s Day, Shaylah included.
Source of information: The Baltimore Banner