Stef On Sex: Lessons from February

$3.5 million Advertisements, $3 Cards, A Groundhog, and A GamePlan

Hallmark pulls at the heartstrings. And empties the coin purse. Cards cost the same as a Starbucks drink. And you can’t drink paper and sparkles. This year, they’ve got a new tactic to reduce me to tears while I watch a fabulous bit of intellectual reality television: the ‘tell me you love me, you miss me, you want me, you need me’ set of clips from viewers just like you. Except it sort of makes you think, “Will anyone send me a card?” Life is a special occasion, Hallmark says. And, apparently if someone does not give you a card every day, your life is not special and you are not valued. Ouch. Or, if we follow the Teleflora ads a la Superbowl, if you send someone flowers, you get sexytime with a hot model. That’s also not true. What happens if I send myself flowers?

February is actually not a fabulous month, as alliterative as that could be. In the beginning, single people realize they have two weeks to fall in love, and taken people have two weeks to come up with creative and original date and gift ideas. Panic ensues. Then, some small ground creature decides winter is going to be way longer than it needs to be. (Additionally, Subway put out an ad campaign I find utterly annoying – Februany? So punny, guys.) Instead of sitting and moping about just how awful and unlucky single, cold people are in February, I decided to use methods of attack I had formerly suggested in other issues of Stef on Sex. Step one was to go to The Keg to form some simple connections- but then, that option closed. Step two was to go to a pregame at a new fraternity – the only thing I learned was that flip cup was not actually a good way to meet people, but in fact a very good way to get unreasonably inebriated for a Thursday. Step three was to go to Gone Greek Night and make great new friends who would totally remember me the next day and definitely ask me on dates, or at least for my number – oh wait, that’s actually the most antithetical statement to the principles embodied by the NU Community on that evening. Step desperation four was to turn to online dating. I’ve joked about it before and then someone my age (not 24 and on Jdate) recommended it as a legitimate means to boyfriending – take that verb how you will. Turns out, awesome people actually are not on OKCupid this season. I didn’t even make it far enough to sign up for their free services.

So, to get out of this February Funk, I have decided to start an official Treat Yo Self campaign. If you are unfamiliar, I highly suggest the linked clip from Parks and Rec. We all deserve some time to treat ourselves. Because quite frankly, no one else is treating me right now. I’m single, and so far totally jobless for the summer. It’s a little frustrating at the moment and it does not make me feel fantastic. But everyone likes a confident woman. No one likes Negative Nancy or Depressing Diane – much less, wants to date them. So, to stand tall like the totally great versions of ourselves that Valentine’s Day tries to screw over, I propose taking a full day to Treat Yo Self. Make a list of what you want to do, up to how much you can spend, and how you’re going to accomplish that. Is it Louboutins? A fancy haircut? Sleeping through a 9 a.m.? Giving your laundry to a cleaner? Or is it a side of home fries at Le Peep? For me, it’s likely some of the above, and maybe a massage. But, if you know someone who wants to give me a massage on Valentine’s Day – or you want to come see ‘The Vow’ with me and do other Single’s Awareness things, that’s grand too. Pick your poison on this consumerist, hyper-sexualized, over-romanticized, mushy-gushy holiday that gives most of us headaches.

Most ridiculous of all, the original Valentines were a bishop and a priest. And we’re taking love and sex advice from them? Let’s instead think of how everyday ‘Life is a Special Occasion’ – thanks, Hallmark. Now go Treat Yo Selves. 

photo: 
marthastewart.com