St. Valentine’s Day Heartburn

It’s that time of year again. In fact, it was not too long after Christmas when I walked into a store managed by some poor fool who was suffering from a bad case of the love bug. It looked as though someone had sprayed the walls down with Pepto Bismol. Pink and red decorations were swift to replace the red and greens of Christmas that was barely over but a few weeks before. Of course I groaned to myself, rolled my eyes, and promptly turned to find the nearest exit. If you have detected a note of bitterness in these opening lines I congratulate you Sherlot! For many years now I’ve considered myself the scrooge of Valentine’s Day. It was bad enough that someone had lit the love coals of society, but did they have to rub it in my face?

Without fail the annual Southern Adventist University Valentine’s Banquet rears its ugly head to remind me of my singleness, and every year I try to convince myself things will improve for the following year. Oftentimes I even anticipate the day, looking for the light at the end of the tunnel of love. Yet repeatedly, I find myself tucked away behind the four walls of room 329, licking my wounds. But for some reason, this year is different. Although at times I still find myself completely disgusted with this concept of commercializing love, I’ve outwitted that wily lil tart cupid. As a matter of fact, I was thinking that maybe he should join forces with Southern’s Panty Brigade and give up that nasty habit of streaking. The bow and arrow is bad enough Bud! Point being, my heartburn, so-to-say, is subsiding and maybe there is a glimmer of something lovely in the distance.

So for all the ladies, and even the gentlemen out there, who are ailing this season with a roaring case of heartburn, pass the Tums, and then treat yourself to a pizza!