Today is a day for celebration.

Break out the fireworks and pop some champagne — it’s the day after Valentine’s Day!

Other holidays, such as Halloween or the Fourth of July, usually bring about a faint sadness when they come to an end. But I just feel extra chipper this Tuesday morning knowing that Valentine’s Day is over.

Today comes like a ray of sunshine after a nasty storm — except the dark menacing clouds are more like suffocating pink clouds of cheap Victoria’s Secret perfume. Everything is back to normal. Another year we miraculously survived.

If you were to call me a cynic, you’d probably be right. Maybe it’s somewhat malicious of me, but I get a feeling of satisfaction when I see Valentine’s Day teddy bears sitting lonesome on the clearance shelves of CVS.

So why all this beef with V-Day? Single or taken, I don’t think I’ve had a great Valentine’s Day since I hit puberty. I realized that I was supposed to get Valentine’s Day cards from boys, not my parents. Cupid’s arrow has either missed me completely or struck me right in the fucking knee — extremely painful, and permanently debilitating.

And although I acknowledge that I am biased, I think many of you, in fact the majority of you, feel this similar sigh of relief when the roses wilt and the paper cutout hearts fall to the ground to be stepped on by the slush-covered boots of winter.

I think I’m mostly bothered by the pressure of Valentine’s Day. You can’t force an emotion on people. Forcing someone to feel “love” with corny candy-heart catch phrases is like trying to force someone to feel “scared” when they’re watching the movie “Signs” for the fifth time. Seeing Mel Gibson wearing a tinfoil hat is just funny now.

This pressure is only fueled by the question, “So, who’s your valentine?” Stop. Shall I admit I don’t have one and succumb to your pitying eyes? Maybe I should say my best friend or my cat — but this just seems even more pathetic than the former.

Even if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend, many of you were probably disappointed with how the anticipated V-Day turned out. Maybe it didn’t live up to your expectations. For you girls, let’s just say he didn’t go to Jared.

Valentine’s Day reminds me of a really drawn out, over-dramatized car commercial. Really cool graphics, but no substance. It’s like when a person uses Picnik to alter their Facebook profile picture with their boyfriend or girlfriend, with some corny phrase like, “When you kiss me my whole world vanishes” in italicized font on the bottom. Oops, I just vomited all over my computer screen.

So how did you survive the dreaded V-Day?

Perhaps you got drunk and went to State Street for a one-night fix. I just hope you didn’t stoop so low as to look for love at The Rat.

Perhaps you had a girls’ night in. You know, drank some wine (five glasses), watched beautiful Leo in “Titanic” and had a little cry. Let it out, girl.

Or maybe you spent the day Facebook stalking your ex-girlfriend, including her new album titled, “A Romantic Week in Barbados with John! xoxo.” Maybe you tried to convince yourself he’s a meathead, while you secretly went out to buy $40 worth of Muscle Milk powder.

Whatever means you took to survive Valentine’s Day, I give you my sincerest congratulations. You deserve a pat on the back. It’s over now and you have a whole 364 days of peace before the rose-induced nausea sets in again.

For the minority of you who had a lovely Valentine’s Day, I’m happy for you. Well, that is if you didn’t make out or talk in a baby voice in front of me, in which case I may have mumbled some ancient curse under my breath that caused you to get a stomach virus. It’s only fair.