Feeling the love

I still remember the first Valentine I ever received, one of those little paper cards with a… I still remember the first Valentine I ever received, one of those little paper cards with a picture of Kermit the Frog and the words “My Heart Leaps for You.” I got it when I was 5 from a boy in my kindergarten class who would eventually go to New York City, watch art house films instead of Sesame Street and quote Salinger, of all people, when I ran into him during Christmas break. Oh, how we change.

I love Valentine’s Day.

Sure, I might moan about it to my roommates or, in the case of this year, to my hermit crab, but inside I’m all skipping puppies and smiling joy.

I love Valentine’s Day because I can indulge guiltlessly in the things I like best – handicrafts, comedic romances, giving presents to my friends – without feeling like a total sap.

It’s the one day of the year that I feel no need to be cynical or grouchy.

I love Valentine’s Day because it’s great for friendships. My “Valentine” from freshman year is now one of my closest friends, and I have his homemade card – one of those sweet, unexpected ones, funny and personal – hanging on my wall to remind me of how nice it is to have someone in your life who probably won’t break your heart.

Last year’s Valentine’s Day Eve found me snowed in at a house in South Oakland. The next morning I had a Valentine’s brunch of heart-shaped pancakes with some of my best friends. We listened to jazz and had a snowball fight, and everything was good in the world.

But even though I spend Valentine’s Day nostalgically channeling the 5-year-old Cassidy with her first ever Valentine, I know that for some people, Valentine’s Day really does suck. I guess if you can’t see how harmless and charmingly silly Valentine’s Day can be, it might be a bit rough for you. So I present, for the benefit of those less fortunate, “Cassidy’s Guide to a Carefree Valentine’s Day.”

1. Wear pink. Go on, go ahead. If you’re a guy, it will show that you’re confident and a little ironic.

If you’re a girl, it will show that you are not ashamed to embrace your softer side. If you’re a feminist, it will show that you choose your own idea of femininity, not that of “the man.”

2. Eat candy. Again, please indulge yourself. The only thing better than Valentine’s Day chocolate is slightly stale, discounted, after-Valentine’s Day-sale chocolates. And those won’t be around for more than another week or so.

Chocolate makes you feel better about everything, unless you have cavities. Or, if you’re not a fan of delicious cocoa delicacies, buy some of those little candy message hearts. Don’t actually eat them. They taste like chalk. But the messages are pretty ridiculous, and they’re easy to throw at those friends who are making fun of you for being alone again this year.

3. Watch “You’ve Got Mail” or any other comparable movie. And don’t just watch it once.

If you watch it only one time, it might seem a little silly but still kind of realistic, and you might feel bad that you don’t have your own Tom Hanks. Instead, watch it at least three times in a row. Then, you’ll realize just how scripted and unrealistic the romance is, and you’ll be less inclined to feel like you’re the only person in the world without a significant other who’s perfect.

4. Go see the Vagina Monologues. It supports a great cause and is run by a great group of talented students. Plus it’s fun and a little saucy.

5. Have a dance party. I recommend collecting your favorite mix of music that has nothing to do with anything serious – usually late ’80s hip hop is good for this – and break out those dancing shoes.

Alternatively, borrow my Richard Simmons Disco Sweat tape and feel like you’re getting a workout while you rid yourself of all of that negative energy. Valentine’s Day is a prime opportunity for hot pants.

6. Delve completely and totally into your sorrow. OK, this is a worst-case scenario: Go buy that half-gallon of ice cream.

Get that bottle of wine, if you’re so inclined. Rent a weepy film and play Damien Rice’s “The Blower’s Daughter” on repeat. Don’t do your homework. Shamelessly do all of those things that both comfort and make you feel a little worse.

Because then when you wake up on Feb. 15 and you realize the world hasn’t ended, that Valentine’s Day was just another day and that you’re still in exactly the same shape, for better or for worse, that you were in on Feb. 13, at least you’ll have some ice cream left.

The second best way to eat a Reese’s is when it’s bitten into the shape of a heart. E-mail Cassidy at cassidygruber@gmail.com if you want to be her Valentine.