Last stop: loveland

Tuesday, February 17, 1998

Last stop: loveland

LOVE: Wishing for simpler Valentine’s Days, when kissing was
yucky

So, how was your Valentine’s Day? It’s always split. I know that
many of you had someone to spend the weekend with, but I know there
were plenty of you who got only one Valentine card and that was
from your grandmother.

The card reads something like, "Roses are red, violets are blue,
if you’re sitting in the front seat, then I love you." It’s signed,
"Love, Grandma." OK, I know that grandmothers don’t send those kind
of cards; usually it’s something flowery and nice – that’s OK.
Don’t worry, I like grandmothers.

But your grandmother, just like millions of women across the
country sign everything, "Love, Talula" (for example).

Womankind says they sign letters with "love," because they just
want to be nice, so basically what they’re really saying is,
"You’re a nice guy, but not that nice, Trixie." "Love" has no
meaning.

I’m sure even some of them

redirect their Valentine’s Day mail through Loveland, Colo., so
they can have it specially postmarked for that special added touch,
but you and I know that Loveland is the last destination they would
ever take you to.

The ironic thing is that Loveland is a beauty small town in the
Rockies, home to about 45,000 (very happy) people. (What kind of an
image would Loveland have if it had a high crime rate – so they’d
better have a "happy" town – otherwise, what hope do we have?) And,
I’m sure living there would be great, but after you left there may
be a few problems.

Let’s say that you left and you come to school at UCLA. You’re
walking through campus and you see a beautiful person – your dream
date. You’re standing there waiting for something to happen, but
you and I know you’re really trying to get up the nerve to say
something; you finally do. She smiles, you smile. You’re funny,
she’s funny. Then she asks you where you’re from. And you say, "I’m
from Loveland." She can’t help laughing at you, and there’s the end
of your little romance. She makes an excuse to leave, and you don’t
have her phone number all because the city you’re from sounds more
like a bad pick-up line than a quaint town in the Rockies.

I know this story sounds all too familiar to a few of you. Not
everyone had a romantic weekend this past Valentine’s Day. Some of
you have had a little too many Loveland pick-up lines thrown your
way. And, this Valentine’s Day you were forced to relive those
scenes from your past, going back to the days when kisses were
yucky.

Go back to when you drank Capri-Sun instead of Coke – back to
when you wore Osh-Kosh-B’Gosh instead of J. Crew. Go back to when
playing on a jungle gym was socially acceptable, and of course back
to when you thought kissing was yucky.

You were OK with certain "choices." Let me explain: you and your
little sister are playing in the backyard. You pick up a hand full
of dirt and you have two choices: throw it at your sister or the
one you choose most of the time, eat the dirt.

This is OK with you. Apparently kissing is unthinkable, but you
have no problem eating dirt.

Let’s take a look at the Yucky Scoreboard so far: kissing,
yucky; eating dirt, OK.

This isn’t the only time you do this.

Take this situation: you have a cold. You’re mother loves you,
so she gives you a handkerchief to put in your pocket and take to
school with you. Your nose starts to run. Once again you have two
choices: use the handkerchief or choose the one you choose most of
the time, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your shirt.

Once again, to review: kissing – yucky, wiping snot on your
sleeve (apparently to save it for later) – not yucky. But kissing
isn’t yucky now, is it? (It might be to you. If it is, I’m sure if
you call information, they’ll get you the phone number for
psychological services.) Besides, I’m not talking about anything
kinky like exchanging gum, just a guy kissing a girl – that’s it.
You know life is different now. But the question is: When did the
yuckiness stop?

Well, you remember the summer when girls start wearing make-up
(among other things), right? And you know this, because when you
saw a flock of girls walk by, they were all wearing the same
lipstick. Why? Male logic suggests that either one girl was able to
steal a stick from her mother, or they pooled their money together,
so they had enough money to buy one. And, now they’re sharing
it.

For some reason boys love this. But there’s also something else
that happens. At about this age girls look totally different. Now
when a beautiful girl walks by and says, "Hello" and you say,
"Hello," you no longer have any idea what you said, because inside
your head you’re saying "whahoo." One important note: this reaction
to women never changes.

At this point kissing isn’t yucky anymore. You decide you want
to learn more. You find out that love is democratic. Don’t say it
isn’t, because it is. Love is a democracy. She is not a tyrant; she
can’t do whatever she wants. This is the way it works: she must
nominate you as the possible boyfriend. Then her "body of
representatives" must elect you unanimously (but sometimes you can
sneak by with a descending vote here and there). Then after and
only after the proper election process can you be her
boyfriend.

Now, if her Love Advisory Committee approves of you, you’re
together, so you’re hoping for the best. You’ve got a chance
because you’ve found that you can’t act like that guy with the
Peter Pan complex – you know him, the one leaping around in green
tights (metaphorically speaking of course). But you finally reach
the relationship stage. And, you’re so in love that you even let
her dress you. This is a mistake. She tells you that you need to
think about things like "outfits," and even accessories. You wear
clothes that match – not only do they match, but the shirt matches
the socks. So you’re walking around with a purple shirt and purple
socks, and this is OK with you. It must be OK with you otherwise
you wouldn’t be seen in public. You must be in love (or mentally
insane … it’s not too late to call and ask for the psychological
services number).

But the good thing is you’re in a relationship, right? But
remember to make her say she loves you, because if she only puts it
in writing then you’re in trouble. And, you’re left reliving your
past romances with no one to love, all that’s left is your lonely
valentine that just says "I love you" (next to a picture of
Garfield hugging Odie).Hill is a third-year communication studies
student.