I like to affectionately call Valentine's Day, "Anti-Single's Day" since it's biased against anyone that's not part of a couple. I really hate this day with a passion. "V-Day" rhymes with "D-Day" with a capital "D," which stands for "Doom." Every Valentine's Day, like some sick unearthly joke, I am forced to fight the clutches of death. For the majority of Valentine's Days past I have had various attempts by God to remove me from the planet on that day! Isn't that odd? The most romantic day of the year and bad things happen. It's an omen. It's bad enough I have to deal with a stinking holiday that rubs my own loveless life back in my face but I also have to fight mortality as well.

I have a list of all the things that went wrong for me on numerous Valentine's Days, such as: getting run over by a bus, being robbed at gun-point, driving off a cliff, having food poisoning, accidentally setting my hair on fire (yup, completely bald), and then, my personal favorite — appendix rupturing and dying on the operating table (nope, didn't see any white light … not a good sign). Then there was the year that the house got robbed; the following year it would catch fire and burn down. And then there was the Valentine's Day I spent in the hospital after my mother got into a car accident; the following year I got into a car accident, then the dog died, got struck by lightning, left in a foreign country without any identification, and so on. Seriously, what are the chances of these events happening on the same day each year? If it didn't happen to me I wouldn't believe it myself. Every V-day is cause for sheer terror in Carol-world.

I finally started to get the message loud and clear when I met this guy, "Nick," early February one year. Sure enough, my personal favorite holiday of death rolls around and so I decide to go out and try not to be depressed. Lo and behold, I see Nick at a party and worked up enough nerve to talk to him. Things seemed to be going well and I actually foolishly thought that I might escape the date unscathed. We got to talking and he said he was a musician.

"Guess what instrument I play," he said.

So I'm being all flirty trying to guess, "Ummm, piano? Harp? Saxophone?"

Suddenly he's looking more and more furious. He holds his left hand up and angrily growls, "drums!" Wouldn't you know it – he was missing his wedding-ring finger. It was gone. Oh, was it ever gone. It was just soooo not there. How the hell I didn't notice the man didn't have a finger I have no idea. And here I was guessing all these instruments that required all your fingers to be present. He thought I was making fun of him. If that isn't indicative of my life, I don't know what is. What are the chances that of all the men I will meet on Valentine's Day it's a man missing his ring finger? It was a sarcastic joke from God in the form of symbolism to let me know I will be alone, man-less, for all eternity till my womb dries up and falls out like a bitter crusty prune. I'll be walking down the street at 80 years old and some kid will yell, "Hey, lady, you just dropped your uterus." How embarrassing would that be? You know, in Shakespearian times they believed it was a sin for a woman to not have a man and her special punishment was leading apes around hell by a leash after she died. For me I'm sure they'll make an exception, won't they? Maybe I can get away with just a Chihuahua.

I was married on Valentine's Day to my first husband. You see — the former "ex' spontaneously decided that we should just take the plunge and go to a justice of the peace and get married on Valentine's Day after I explained my bad luck with this day. He said he wanted to forever change my luck with this day and make it our wedding anniversary. Two months later he left me for my best friend and cleaned out my bank account. I'm cursed!

So I wonder what will happen this year. Will I be struck by a delivery truck carrying heart-shaped candies that say, "hot stuff"? Will Match.com decline my membership? Will I get a bouquet of wrenches from a secret admirer? Actually that's not so bad. One year I got a stainless steel "snake" for the toilet bowl. How romantic is that? I hear they're having an "Anti-Valentine's Day Parade" in New York City this year. I might as well grab a leash and lead King Kong down past Macy's walking side by side for all flippin' eternity. ~Smirk~