The V-day contest
The day is fast approaching. No, not the winter equinox. Wait, maybe the winter equinox is fast approaching. But that’s not the one I’m talking about. I mean the day of pink cards and Cupidian arrows, of little red chalky hearts with amorous phrases etched in white, of romance and candles and flowers and candies, of raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Yes, we are T-minus 10 days or so until Valentine’s Day or, as Hallmark calls it, Payday.
Last year I wrote a perhaps at times satirical piece about the “L-word” to mark the occasion. But this year I am going to let you weigh in. Yes, you. Now I know what you’re wondering. You’re asking yourself how I knew you’d be reading this. What would really bake your noodle would be if I addressed you by name. But let’s not get too crazy here.
For the next 3 or 4 days I am accepting submissions of your best or worst Valentine’s Day story. Reach back as far as you want. Were you humiliated in 2nd grade? Rejected at recess in 4th? Did you get your first kiss as the clock struck 8pm right before curfew on February 14th in middle school?
Next week I will publish a list of finalists in this first annual (but destined for fame and multiple annual repetitions) V-day story contest. And then we will open the polls for voting and you will choose the winner. And to the winner will go…(drum roll please)…that’s right, the pride and admiration of your peers. Plus, if by chance I am appointed Chancellor in the meantime, you will get free tuition for a year.
Stories can be submitted anonymously or nonymously to [email protected].
In the meantime, in order to get you warmed up for some serious story telling, I will share a Valentine’s Day story of my own.
When I was in sixth grade I had a huge crush on a certain young lady, let’s call her Cleopatra. I knew the sixth grade game well enough to know that the first step was to write a note, pass it to a friend of mine to pass to a friend of hers to pass to her.
The note said something like “please circle anyone on this list who you like” and then listed about 50 guys in our grade. My name was safely ensconced somewhere in the middle.
Well, as luck would have it, she circled (among others) my name, which produced a distinctly tachycardic response when I received the note back (via her friend to my friend to me). So I called her and asked her that most famous of sixth grade questions, “Will you go with me?”
Hallelujah. She said yes.
So around about now you must be asking yourself what this has to do with Valentine’s Day. Just you wait.
It turns out that I asked her to “go with me” on a Thursday, and the next day was Friday (yes, seriously). It was also both Valentine’s Day AND her birthday. Yep, on the same day. I’m not sure if that’s legal, but believe you me, it shouldn’t be.
So being the bright (read: naïve) young whipper snapper that I was I decided to go to the mall and shop for her. I got her a box of chocolates (and this was pre Forest Gump so it had nothing to do with life being like that box of chocolates) and some flowers. Oh, but that was just to cover Valentine’s Day.
For her birthday I got her a $60 dollar necklace. Now $60 might not sound like a lot, but that was like about a zillion years of allowance for me back then, so it was a serious investment.
Friday dawned, and then later it eved, and I went over to Cleopatra’s house. I gave her the chocolate (ooh) and the flowers (ahh) and then, whilst my imagination created romantic fireworks overhead, I bequeathed the necklace.
She was enchanted. She was thrilled. She was ecstatic.
She dumped me the next day.
Ouch.
She offered to give me the necklace back, but for some very odd reason I decided to tell her to keep it.
Here’s to hopeless romantics, and naïve 12 year olds. Oh, and here’s to the off chance that Cleopatra is reading this and is still willing to give me that necklace back. Let’s face it, $60 would pay for at least an hour of my tuition. Plus, with inflation that necklace is probably worth like a billion dollars now. Unless, of course, she sold it and invested the money in GM stock.
And here’s to your stories. I look forward to reading them.
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That’s just wrong. It reminds me of my friend Matt who was dating this girl in middle school and much the same thing happened to him: he bought her a 70$ (I’m guessing because it’s been years, but it was near triple digits) necklace for Valentine’s and a month later over spring break, she dumped him and never talked to him again; she wouldn’t even acknowledge him when they were in the same room together and would go deaf whenever I mentioned his name.
I love it! You can actually pin-point the second your heart rips in half.