February is my least favorite month of the year. It’s cold, the sun tends to hide, and even the snow that’s on the ground looks gross. Plus, the excitement and cheer of the holidays is officially over and there’s nothing much to look forward to. Okay, I take that back- some people have a long weekend at the end of February, but most of us don’t. 

Oh, and there’s Valentine’s Day. The day of the year when advertisers tell us (guys especially) that we have to spend lots of money on the person we love to show them that we actually do, indeed, love them. The day when anyone who is single, for whatever reason, notices their “singleness” in a way that doesn’t occur any other day of the year (In fact, in college, my friends and I used to wear black in honor of “Single Awareness Day”). The day of the year that’s full of high expectations and often, big disappointments.

Now, don’t get me wrong. If you love Valentine’s Day, you do you.  More power to you. I actually used to love February 14th before I was an adult. That’s when Valentine’s Day was funny cards, and craft projects, and more about friendship than romance. Honestly, I still feel the same way. I love buying silly cards and giving them to the people I care about throughout the year. Maybe Valentine’s Day has become more commercialized lately (Guys, get your girls a diamond), or maybe I just didn’t notice it as a kid.

This pull of loving a day to celebrate love, and hating a day that feels so “expensive to prove love” has bugged me for years. Which is why, when I was introduced to Galentine’s Day last year, my head (and heart) exploded.