Valentine's Day, also known as the day of love, was invented for the sole purpose for me to hate myself. It seems as if the way I view the world changes, as the day of pink hearts and antacid flavored candies sputtering sweet nothings, comes into being.

Suddenly everywhere I look, I see young couples caught up in warm embraces of pure infatuation. Everything my gaze touches seems to be overflowing with gushing goodness.

The obvious reaction of any sane, single person is “Ew.” However, that initial grimace of disgust quickly turns to “What if” and after a long, self-reflecting pause, “Why not.”

Before long you’re wallowing in your own pity, and wondering why the love train passed your depot. But still many claim they don’t need any love and they are content in their lonely world of spending hours instant messaging and watching Late Night with Conan O’Brian. No matter how much it is denied, Valentine's Day shows us the life we are exempt from, one of hugs, kisses and assorted chocolates.

So what are we single people to do? I say large scale boycott. Wear all black, pass out those TUMS flavored candies with various vulgarisms, and replace hugs and kisses with high fives and chest pounds.

Maybe these measures will let those love birds think that we may be loveless losers, but at least we are loveless losers with a cause.