I’ve always managed to have miserable Valentine’s Days, single or attached. I told myself I didn’t care but stewed anyway. That’s the power of cultural pressure, isn’t it?
Except for two years ago. Two years ago one of my dearest friends was getting divorced and so for Christmas I bought her a hockey ticket. The game was on February 14th, so that instead of dreading a holiday that was all about coupleness, she’d have something to look forward to (and so would I).
And what’s better for Valentine’s Day than an arena full of gorgeous men—skating at top speed, slamming each other into the boards?
I don’t remember Valentine’s Day last year but I’m quite sure I sulked.
