Valentine’s day snuck up on me like some homeless guy at a train station. I turned around when I registered the stench and heard the shuffle of social obligation.

“Spare Change?” He asked cruelly, unconsciously demanding.

I squeezed by him without contact, painfully avoiding the conversation hearts, Disney valentines and required bouquets of flowers. The paragon of prepackaged amorous obligation excused me from its requirement as conscientious objector.

I spent the day like a horse with blinders, carefully filtering the images of the day to a level I could deal with. Some girl came up to me with pink hearts painted on her eyes and asked if I’d be her Valentine. I flipped her off, but not before reacting with a look of awkward isolation.

The day passed painfully slow. I wasted three class periods while the teacher went around the room with candy and questions.

“And who is your valentine, Jack?” my teacher asked sweetly, a siren of temptation with a bowl of m&ms.

I flipped her off, but not before shouting, “fuck your contrived corporate capitalism” at the top of my lungs.

I spent the rest of the day in the Dean of Discipline’s office discussing my comments to Ms. Shreigger. I apologized for the outburst, and for my disillusionment. I expressed my condolences that that Dean was forced to be a middleman in the American capitalistic system. A yes man, I may have said, pausing only to take a watermelon Jolly Rancher from his famous bowl of confectionary.

The Assistant Headmaster had me sent to the School Psychiatrist. The shrink identified with me quietly, confiding that he really didn’t “dig” the whole Valentine’s Day thing either. I asked where he went to college. He said Dickinson. We talked about Pennsylvania and water-skiing before he filled in a piece of paper “recommending” that I be able to return to class. I shook his hand, he winked at me, I got weirded out and left in a hurry.

I skipped advisory, Church assembly and my ‘afternoon obligation’. The athletic director put a note in my box explaining that if I missed one more Squash practice, I would be removed from the team and disciplined.

Dinner was Macaroni & Cheese with Meatloaf. I asked the student server where they came up with the combinations. He said he didn’t know, that I should eat what I was given and shut the fuck up. I asked him if they had any cupcakes without hearts on them. He said they didn’t.

“Besides,” the student server continued, “A heart’s not gonna kill you.”

I told him to shove the cupcakes up his ass and flipped him off. The Dean of Discipline saw me do it, and demanded that I spend the rest of dinner assisting the student server.

I got back to my room, had study hall and sketched Anime characters that I remembered from my youth. A friend stopped by and asked if there was anything I needed.

“Got any porn?” I asked gently.

“Sure, but why do ya need it?” He responded.

“It’s Valentine’s day.” I explained softly. “And I’d really like to make it special.”