There's nothing quite like a high school on Valentine's Day. You can practically feel the hormones buzzing in the corridors.
But you know what? I think this holiday sucks. Seriously!
As early as the age of poor Charley Brown, kids start building their self-esteem on the number of Valentines they get and the quality of those Valentines. By the time high school rolls around, all the bright balloons, gifts, teddy bears the size of real bears, and roses, go to the popular girls from the cutest boys ... and the other boys and girls just suffer.
I was one of those sufferers in high school. I know.
What about the rest of us? The older folks who have seen many, many Valentine's Days? It's all too tempting to dismiss this holiday as a shameless ploy for ducats from the candy, flower, and card companies. Don't you feel sorry for the person whose loved one only tells them once a year that they're loved? Once again, how about all the single people ... the widowed ... the divorced. No wonder some people call this "Forever Single" day!
With that in mind, I've cornered the culprit for all this rosy madness. Please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Cupid, bored god of senseless love!
Cupid: Tee hee!
Anne: You encourage otherwise thoughtful people to act like babies. Love is blind! And if not blind, then seriously blinkered.
Anne: Okay, so call me cynical. It's easy for me to fling your arrows back at you. I'm set in my ways, older and wiser. If I happen to see a happy couple somewhere, I don't give you credit. You seem more bent on mischief than meaning.
Anne: Oh, now, there's just what I mean! That boy is so wrong for that girl! They have nothing in common. He will want her to wear high heels all the time, and she will resent him sitting in the sports bar with his bros. Do you give any thought to what you do?
Cupid: Tee hee! Nope!
Anne: I can't believe you have been around since ancient times. Was there ever an era where people had sense? Like, did people ever choose lifetime companions based on compatibility and sensibility, leaving erotic love out of the equation?
Anne: Oh yes. Of course. That would be any era where you marry someone and then get the hots for someone else. Because frankly, Cupid, that's all you're about. Giving people the hots for each other.
Anne: I guess it perpetuates the species.
Cupid: Party pooper!
Anne: You know something, Cupid? You are so right! I am a party pooper! I'm not going to change this silly species. So, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Off to the card shop to scour the nearly-empty shelves!
I know this for sure. When I get to those empty shelves, the rest of the people scouring them will be male.
As for Cupid, He's the ultimate irony, isn't he? Sweet little baby, causing a world of trouble everywhere He turns. Note that he's red. Just another foe for the anxious lovelorn out there.
No! Cupid! For the love of fruit flies! Don't shoot an arrow at that cat lady and the guy with the allergy! Stop! For all that is holy, please!