Life is like a box of Russell Stover

Whatever you call February 14, whether Cupid's arrow has hit you in the heart on Valentine's Day or in the ass on Singles Awareness Day, you can't ignore the rolling around of Valentine's Day. It never fails to exist and provides a boom to the chocolates, floral, and shotgun businesses. You either love someone or hate love, and those feelings are brought to attention once a year, February 14.

I'm actually indifferent about Valentine's Day this year. Last year reminded me of the year before, my only Valentine's Day with someone I truly loved. It was a Friday, which meant that I went to class with girls carrying roses and balloons, every couple discussing their plans-- I vividly remember an Asian couple mention McDonald's. I even had to help my roommate make last-second plans; he was clueless on his first Valentine's Day with a girlfriend. I was on the phone making dinner reservations, looking for cheap roses, all for another couple, reminding me that I had no one to call mine.

Today has been a blur of a Valentine's Day. I have yet to take a shower and still permeate an odor of Arturo Fuente stogies. I've slept all but about 4 hours of the day, my body attempting to recover from last night's and this morning's festivities. Lovefest was my Valentine's. It was a hell of a party, though its potential was somewhat damaged by an early visit from the boys in blue (Lovefest resumed after a one-hour hiatus). I was surrounded by countless spectators and beautiful people, but more importantly, I was with a few hometown boys who I've gradually realized would do almost anything for me.

It will always be that camaraderie that makes Lovefest 2 one of my most unforgettable college experiences, because the fact of the matter is there were spots where I felt uncomfortable and out of my niche. Parties like Lovefest give me moments of fire and exhilaration, but I'm not in my comfort zone. Whenever I'd see one of my friends in the beginning stages of a hookup, part of me would envy them, the part that wishes I were more spontaneous, less reserved, and more risk-taking. But that's not who I am. In the end, I was content to get a couple of kisses on the cheek and didn't expect anything more. People, situations, and dates on the calendar don't compel me to pretend to be something I'm not.

I didn't go out of my way to make plans with the opposite sex on Valentine's Day. I've always felt the day was more reserved for true romance and genuine feelings. I'm still tired and dirty, most likely destined to have a quiet night in my apartment. I am content to leave this night to the couples out there, particularly the ones who sometimes take for granted that love is one of the most unexplainable but marvelous phenomena known to man.

Happy Valentine's Day, and goodnight.