For the single girl (or at least this single girl), Valentine’s Day is a lot like PMS. Crankiness, mood swings, abundant chocolate.
And every time it’s over, we forget that it will come again, in a month, in a year, whatever. (I hear this is why women continue to have children, because they forget the pain of labor.) Each time it’s over relief washes over us, and we are lulled into a false sense of security, only to be slapped in the face.
That is, until we aren’t. Until we aren’t stuck at home avoiding the couples, the flowers, the boxes of chocolate, the valentine’s episodes, because we’re in a couple. Until we aren’t stuck at home curled up on the couch crying at the end of every Chick Flick, popping Midol like M&Ms.
So if you need me this Valentine’s day, I’ll be with three men who have never let me down: Jack Shepard, Ben, and his friend Jerry. We’ll be waiting for menopause.





