This was originally posted on my Medium profile on February 14, 2017.
I used to hate Valentine’s Day with an all-consuming passion. Before that, I adored it.
In my childhood, Valentine’s Day was great. It was my half-birthday (approximately 6 months from my actual birthday) so my parents (well, mom mostly) made a big deal of it and how I was their Valentine. It was about celebrating family love.
I got a little older, and my best friend’s little brother would ask me if I was his Valentine every year — and I would say “Yes, of course I am!” because he was a sweet kid.
I got a little older, and the teacher had to order the other students to give me valentines so my envelope wouldn’t be empty.
I got a little older, and I realized that not only did no one else give a shit it was my half-birthday, no one even knew what a half-birthday was. Apparently it had been made up by my crazy family.