I hate Valentine's Day.

In my current hopefully permanent relationship,

I have a really easy pass on this commercial, half

pagan, half Christian, violently originated, and exploitative holiday.

My partner's daughter, Emma, who is one of the loves of my life, has her birthday on Valentine's

Day. So I get to call my partner on February the 14th and say, happy Emma's's birthday and he laughs and says you too he bakes her a cake I get

her a gift holiday celebrated.

Valentine's Day, sure, it's a Hallmark holiday, but it's worse than that. It's heteronormative and somehow the patriarchy has telegraphed to women that if they don't get a

hundred dollars in flowers, chocolates, and teddy bears made on a boat off the coast of Bangladesh, then guess what? No one loves you.

And as a man, if you don't spend down your food budget by that $100, then you are a bad

boyfriend slash husband.

And the love industry knows this and gouges you for it.

A dozen roses in March?

20 bucks. A dozen roses on February 13th, a trillion dollars.

The love industry exploits mostly women's trained expectations of what

happiness and romantic life looks like. Valentine's Day you've ruined roses

for me.

Granted, there are people who do a great job with Valentine's Day.

They use it as an excuse to be kind to each other.

Groups of women go out and celebrate Galentine's day.

People cook meals for each other.

I get very cute cards from all of my little Godchildren,

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