The Definitive Guide to Deciphering Your Valentine’s Day Notes
Issue 10, Volume 113
There are many things you might look forward to on February 14—perhaps you’ll be enjoying a candlelit dinner, hidden in the bathroom with your imaginary lover (why can’t your parents understand?), or, for those of us who have long since given up on such travails, eating Nutella on the couch while living vicariously through Taylor Swift songs. Maybe you’re excited to see the notes attached to the flowers and chocolates you’ll be receiving this year, but you’re not sure what you’ll do when you get them, if you get any at all. Regardless, how do you decipher the hidden messages on said notes and find out what your valentines are really thinking? Well, you’re in luck, because this article is the Rosetta Stone to all your valentines!
Disclaimer: The Spectator is not responsible for any potential embarrassment that may result from these interpretations. We do not recommend that you act upon the perceived intentions of your letters if you don’t want to resort to hiding in the Hudson staircase for the rest of your Stuyvesant career. Just don’t blame me if it goes wrong, okay? My advice is flawless; it’s you who’s the problem.
The Blank Note Attached to a Flower
This one is probably from your friend who doesn’t want to hear about how everyone’s been rejecting you lately. They were hoping you’d assume that it’s from a *secret admirer*, but even you are too smart to believe that. But hey, maybe you just leave them speechless!
The Passionate Love Letter
This type of letter is littered with phrases such as “You bring me more pleasure than an SAS triangle with the congruent sides already labeled,” or “I could just be slipping on the coffee spills by the Sophomore Bar, but I think I’m falling for you!” Unfortunately for your ego, there is no way this letter is real. How do I know? Well, this person clearly doesn’t know what they’re talking about, because no Stuyvesant teacher has given a three-step proof since the 1960s when they conducted a clinical trial of Brooklyn Tech’s teaching methods on Stuyvesant students; the experiment was deemed too inhumane to repeat. Also, you’re ugly.
The Apology Note
This one is from that one friend who’s basically happily married (by which I mean they’ve been dating someone for more than a week—crazy, I know!) and feels sorry for PDA-ing around you, the pathetic third wheel. The note consists of a brief apology for those excruciating two minutes you spent standing below the two of them on the escalator as they passionately exchanged carbon dioxide and saliva. This apology is generally followed by an accusatory “but that doesn’t mean you can sneak MiraLAX into his lunch so that he spends seventh period shaking the bathroom walls with the undiluted power of his defecation!” Oopsies!
The Threatening Note
This note generally comes to people who have “forgotten” their Met project for the past three weeks. It may be the most clever note of them all, as every teacher knows that you are romantically deprived enough to open anything you get on Valentine’s Day. However, just to be sure, teachers like to add extra traps to lure you in, such as a fake phone number scrawled at the top of the note (1-800-TURNITIN). The letter soon takes a turn for the worse as your teacher describes the numerous ways they will torture you into handing in the project. Common threats include making eye contact with you for 30 seconds straight, making you eat the cafeteria french fries, and forcing you to spend an hour watching love stories unfold in the Hudson staircase.
A final word of warning to you all: please do not overinterpret your letters—a comma is just a comma. It does not mean that your love interest is pausing briefly before they profess their undying love for you. Sorry. However, feel free to invent and implement your own heart-stopping comma symbolism in your articles. Just do not expect me to interpret those for you, as I have no idea what is going on in your twisted, hopeless romantic minds. And with that, happy Valentine’s Day!