Shakespeare said it best with the line, “love is merely a madness.” To me, it’s like a disease, festering inside you and taking over. I’ve always had a general dislike for a holiday where we are expected to show our love for people by buying them cards that get thrown away, flowers that die and chocolates that get eaten only later to hear complaints about how those chocolates have caused our significant other to gain weight.

It’s very possible my dislike for this holiday comes in part from being single each Valentine’s Day of my life. This doesn’t really matter when you’re five and getting a box of those little hearts with sayings on them is the coolest thing in the world. But, by the time you’re 10, if you would rather get them from little Johnny and not Sara, the girl all the other boys like, you are smart enough to know that giving a Valentine to Johnny would be social suicide.

I begrudgingly admit my contempt for this holiday doesn’t stem from me being against love or the idea of romance, but moreso from the lack of love in my life.

At one point, I was actually in love and had someone in my life that I would do anything for. I found myself thinking we could be together forever. But one day he woke up and and left, leaving me wondering what the hell happened and what it was that I did. I spent the following six months doing my best not to Facebook-stalk him and trying to get over him.

There was a period in my life where I finally had love and saw how great it was. I knew what it was like to have that person, when just hearing his name made you smile. When seeing him made my palms sweat and made my stomach feel like I was riding the Falling Star at Adventureland. There was something about having that one person you knew you could go to for anything and you knew that you were that person for them.

But our relationship went away; and I become a bitter cynic who hated the idea of romance. But after a few boxes of Kleenex’s, few gallons of ice cream and two rebounds later, I’m back to being apathetic towards the idea of love, sort of.

I still remember that feeling and the comfort that it offered and I want it back. So, while I put on a front, pretend I don’t care about love or romance and pretend I don’t do the whole dating game, the truth is I’m just scared of getting hurt and bitter I can’t find love.