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Surviving Valentine's Day

I am not a sentimental person. I don't celebrate my birthday, Sweetest Day is something I actually forget about until the day after, and Valentine's Day is just another day.

I know you're going to say that it's because I'm married that I can write off Valentine's Day, but that's really not the case. I didn't care about Valentine's Day before I was married, when I was dating or when I was single. In fact, I struggle to think of any time that I ever got flowers or in some other way celebrated February 14. Sure, it probably happened, but I don't remember it.

It doesn't have to be a holiday....
But I realize to some people it's a big deal. It's a day to declare your love of another human, and gorge yourself on small candies and buy overpriced, roses that are 90% stem. Or you openly declare your disdain for everyone who has love and isn't you. 

And if you really, really hate Valentine's Day, you can join the legions of women who have made survival lists and anti-parties (and eat chocolate and drink).
My favorite list of stupid shit that makes women sound dumb comes courtesy of Refinery 29, who was nice enough to put together three different "survival kits," two of which involved shoes. (The first one is shoe free, but seems to assume you're getting drunk on absinthe while scrawling hate messages and angst ridden poems in your diary and burning pictures of your ex).

So apparently single women everywhere have now been given the tools to embrace their running shoes and a pair of color block heels, bust out the juicer and a bottle of wine, and swear off men this Valentines Day. Because nothing says "I'm independent and don't need anyone" like eating a whole box of truffles in one sitting.

My recommendation this Valentine's Day is to give a big old "fuck you" to the whole damn day. Married, single, divorced, happy, miserable...it's Tuesday. Treat it as such. If you want to get drunk and buy shoes, please be my guest (and invite me), but don't make up excuses on why you get to do it. You don't need some crap-tastic holiday to drunkenly buy new heels and eat chocolate.

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