Every year it’s the day that I not only eat my weight in chocolate that I buy for myself, but also one that I’m left to ponder why I don’t ever have a Valentine of my own to shower me with flowers, love letters and heart-shaped candies.
Twenty-five years of being single and I still haven’t been able to figure out the answer because, I don’t mean to be brag, but I’m a total catch.
I’m an attractive girl who takes pride in my appearance. I have great hair. Many thanks to my father, the hairdresser, who provides me with otherwise unaffordable hair care products, my locks are long and sleek and shiny and, usually, perfectly styled. Bad roots? Not on this head of perfectly groomed hair. My nails are always perfectly manicured. Never on these hands will you find a chip in my polish. There’s no excuse, really, being that I own every Essie nail polish color ever made. The spring line for 2014? Yep, I’ve already got all the colors. Maybe it’s excessive, but a girl’s always got to look her best. And I have radiantly clear skin, straight white teeth, long eyelashes and perfectly arched brows.
But I’m more than just a pretty face. I’m a great cook. Just ask my roommates. Homemade chicken potpies, butternut squash raviolis, Thai curries and marinated flank steaks are just a few of the dishes that I’ve mastered. Just this morning I made homemade Caesar salad dressing and homemade dough for the fig, prosciutto, arugula and Gorgonzola pizza that I plan on chef-ing up for dinner. And for dessert? A homemade carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. I’ve heard that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a lie, because even my four-course menus have left me hopelessly single.
And I’m not just a wizard in the kitchen, whipping up butter creams and kneading dough. I’m also an intelligent young woman. Despite the fact that I spent each year of my undergraduate years at a different college, I still managed to graduate early. In 2009, I studied art history in Paris, France at the Louvre Museum. In 2010 I graduated from the University of California at Santa Barbara with a Bachelor’s degree in Communications, and in 2013 I got accepted into Boston University’s graduate program for Journalism.
Plus, I’m extremely well read. Last year it was my New Year’s Resolution to read a book a week, and for the first time in my life, I accomplished it. And I’m not just talking about books like the 50 Shades of Gray or the Hunger Games series. I’m talking about important literary works that would impress any English professor. In the past year alone, I read Fitzgerald, Plath, Vonnegut, Dostoevsky, Orwell, Marquez, Talese, Wolfe and Cervantes — just to name a few.
And I am hilarious. It’s not that I’m just my own favorite comedian, which is not all the way a lie, but my jokes, social commentary and silly catch phrases will make you laugh out loud too. I dare you not to crack even the slightest smile when you read my Facebook status updates that say things like, “I will sit on your face for Valentines Day if you bring me beer.” Ok, so sometimes I can get a little bit, let’s say, raunchy, but isn’t that the hot comedic trend these days?
And what’s more attractive than a girl that loves beer? A girl that loves pizza. Luckily for all you men out there, I love both. Nothing would make me happier on date night than a large pepperoni pizza and a six-pack of Pacifico. Really, guys, you can forget about the reservations at expensive restaurants and wearing a nice button up. I’m a cheap date.
And parents love me. I really know how to turn up the charm. I mean, what’s not to love about a girl that’s well-traveled, has impeccable table manners, a college degree and a small library? Any guy would be proud to introduce this well-read, clever and funny girl to dinner at mom and dad’s house.
So for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I always seem to be so helplessly single. It can’t be my look, I know girls that would kill for my Urban Outfitters wardrobe, clear skin and incredibly long lashes. It can’t be my unparalleled skill in the kitchen. I get calls from old friends in California begging me to come home and cook for them on a regular basis. What about my intellect and my sense of humor? It can’t be that.
I’m at a loss. Stumped.
If anyone can figure out the answer to my plague of singleness, I’ll pay you handsomely in leftover candy hearts and Russell Stover chocolates.
Kate Hofberg is a graduate student in the College of Communication. She can be reached at email@example.com.