I painted my nails red for Valentine’s Day. Very cliché, I know. This is shocking and out of character for me for two reasons: 1) I painted my nails — which I almost never do, and 2) I have spent the last 21.5 years (yes, even as a small infant) vehemently opposed to Valentine’s Day. When I was in elementary school, I would symbolically wear black (or whatever black clothing my mother let my nine-year-old self-wear — I definitely didn’t buy my own clothes) to make a statement. My mother would give me “love gifts” the day AFTER Valentine’s Day to respect my cause, and I even wrote a poem entitled “I Hated Valentine’s Day” in fifth grade and got in trouble with a teacher.