I blame Walt Disney.
He had Snow White sing

“Some day my prince will come, 
  Some day I’ll find the one….”

I grew up believing that song.

I blame Dean Martin.
He had a big hit when he sang

“You’re nobody till somebody loves you.”

I believed that song.

The movies weren’t helpful. Everybody in the movies found true
love. Lauren Bacall found Bogie, Hepburn found Tracy, Minnie Mouse
found Mickey, and Ava Gardner found whoever she wanted.
Elizabeth Taylor had four husbands just in the 1950s.

I was looking for a James Dean, a Montgomery Clift, or a Gene Kelly.
My dates looked like they came from the Mickey Mouse Club.

Finding a husband was what a girl was supposed to do In the 1950s.
It was better to be married to a  creep than to be single.

Many times I thought about becoming a nun. Deborah Kerr
looked so cool as a nun in the movie “Black Narcissus” even
though she only had one outfit. And if I was a nun, I wouldn’t
have had to marry a creep.

Then. Helen Reddy sang “I am woman, hear me roar,” and women
roared and I started speaking a little louder.

But Valentine’s Day has caused me anxiety ever since I was in
kindergarten. Miss Anderson, the teacher, said we should
all exchange Valentine cards in class. Miss Anderson wore a
hairnet and had a mustache, so, of course, she was single.

My classmates put their many valentines in shoe boxes. I got
four valentines and put them in a sandwich bag–one from my
best friend Dora, one from my second- best friend Gay, one
from Miss Anderson, and one from Michael Rosenwasser, who
gave one to everybody.

You might be wondering how I remember. I remember every
slight, every criticism, every hurt I ever felt, and every time a
“him” didn’t call and broke my heart. 

I remember when one of my children didn’t get a valentine. She
didn’t care. I did.  I remember thinking my children must feel
like I did. But they never did. Yet we all survived, even me.

Today, a woman can be happy being single. And everyone else
 should mind their own business!

Some women even wish they weren’t married. Some men, too.
Especially those with roving eyes.

Today you can be single or marry whoever you want as long
as it’s not to someone like your mother, someone young
enough to be a girl scout, or a goat. 

That’s why Valentine’s Day sucks. It’s an undemocratic holiday.
It celebrates romantic love. Loving your dog or pizza doesn’t
count.

Singles like chocolate and flowers but there’s no holiday for singles.

But no matter how I resist, every Valentine’s Day my husband gives me a big red heart-shaped box of chocolates on February 15^th. They’re half-price that day.

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