I don’t mark the calendar with a big heart to remind my significant other of the day. I don’t want heart-shaped chocolates or roses. I definitely don’t want a card with fuzzy animals cuddling each other.

I may be one of the handfuls of women that hate Valentine’s Day. It’s not because I’m single, either. In fact, I’ve been in a steady relationship for almost six years. It’s not because I’ve had bad Valentine’s Days in the past. I’ve never really celebrated it, and I have no desire to.

To me, Valentine’s Day is like paying taxes – no one really wants to do it, but you just have to.

Valentine’s Day is only fun when you’re in grade school, when everyone hands out candies and those perforated cards with cartoon characters on them.

Now, it’s a hassle. The stores are crowded on Valentine’s Day evening. The candy aisle is picked clean. The only candies left are those Werther’s Originals, you know, those hard candies your grandma carried around in her purse on Sundays to keep you quiet during church services.

The florist at the grocery store only has the two-week old wilting tulips. Not even a single rose. And you’re frantic, trying to search for those cheap red teddy bears with an “I HEART YOU” t-shirt.

What you’re left with is a bagful of crap that no one wants and an abased look on your face, kicking yourself for not planning ahead of time. For us women, that could be a real mood killer. We have to don a smile and in our best sympathetic voice say, “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

Seriously, you shouldn’t have. Save your money and your dignity for another day. Quite honestly, I have to say I appreciate the effort, although I would have appreciated a large pizza with extra cheese and a lame movie a little more.

Valentine’s Day is the epitome of what I believe is purchased love. In order to execute a successful Valentine’s Day celebration by conventional standards, you must purchase a bunch of cheap stuff that will either be eaten or die the next day. That is not love.

There should be no such thing as Valentine’s Day. Instead, there should be just one spontaneous day out of the year where you show your significant other that you appreciate them. I would call it the Spontaneous Love Appreciation Day, where you do something genuinely sweet for your mate.

Some of the best memories I’ve had with my significant other did not involve a mandated box of chocolates and head-dead roses on a fake holiday. It was the days when we would go on a spontaneous road trip or run away from bee swarms while trying to eat ice cream in the park.

There doesn’t need to be a designated holiday where everyone must show their love for someone else. It cheapens it, and takes the mystery out of love. When love is commercialized, what you’re left with is something that is fake and fluffy as the stuffing in your red teddy bear’s head.