Valentine’s Day: Dear Cupid

Dear Cupid:

I get it. I really get it. I understand how being symbolized wearing a diaper with fairy wings and carrying a bow and arrow could cause someone to gain a, shall we say colourful, sense of humour. It can’t be easy being the patron saint of “love” and being depicted as what can only be described as a small child. I understand that this could cause one to enact all sorts of revenge against the very people you’re supposedly trying to assist through the various ways of love.

I also understand that your arrow can only cause a spark, that the rest is up to us feeble humans to work through, around, under, and test our patience and how much we really wish for the relationship to work out. I understand that it’s a matter of trying to figure out exactly how much we care about a person, learning about ourselves and what we are willing to do for the object of our affections. There are good days, bad weeks, wonderful months, hard years, and spectacular decades. The point is, we’re supposed to remember that spark for the entire length of the relationship, and, once the sparks align, there exists a love which can only be described as magical and understandable between the two parties involved.

I’m sure, being the saint of love, that you are well aware of my fear of February 14th. Even existing in a relationship, Valentine’s Day holds very little meaning for me that isn’t duplicitous. My life has been surrounded by notoriously bad Valentine’s days, which all began when I turned ten. It’s a long, sordid, and painful history that I don’t really wish to dredge up, at least, not at the moment. You have been at the center of a few of these controversies, though, in fairness, not all. Still, there have been a few moments where I have glanced at this photo and simply wondered how easy life would be if I could pay someone to do this to you:

However, over the past few days, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Why do we give you, you who chooses to be depicted as a demented baby, so much power? Why do we humans care so much about love that we would willingly allow ourselves to worship such a figure, pray to him, indulge in his whims, his arrows? I know you have heard your fair share of expletive outrages, but you have also toyed with so many of us, supposedly on this quest for love that we should learn from our mistakes. To that, I say, “phooey”.

I’m here to tell you, this year, this year will be entirely different from previous years. This year, I’m here to tell you, “Bring!It!On!” Too long have I hid from your precious day, like a groundhog afraid of seeing her shadow. Too long have I wondered, “What terrible fate will befall me this year?” Too long have I just looked with dread at the calendar and said, “Why can’t we just skip February 14th altogether?”

Today, I tell you, “no more!” Today, I tell you that I will revel in February 14th. I will celebrate love and the colours pink, red, and white in their various hues. I will smile all Valentine’s Day, content with the knowledge that though my relationship status may be best described as “complicated”, I have not surrendered in defeat.

To you, I tell you, I will NOT let you get to me this coming Sunday. I will not let your arrows purge me of my hope, and I will not let you inflict fear into my heart. This year, you meet a stronger, confident girl, ready to do battle – where and when necessary – for a more serene future.

To you, Cupid, I say, “Bring.It.On!” and be prepared to meet your match, because this year, this year everything changes. You’d better be prepared to bring your “A” game, which may mean that you will probably want to switch into a more appropriate attire because, with all due respect, “game on!”

Oh, and to the millions of other people still praying for your acceptance, I do have to admit there are times when I have enjoy your mischievous ways. In some ways, I have to say, “Play on, playa, but leave my friends alone.”

Hoping you find some peace in the coming weeks,

Yours,

Bethany