bearNothing says “high school love” like a gigantic Valentine’s Day bear. I saw a few of these imposing creatures roaming the halls yesterday, usually led by the hand of a girl glowing with love. I guess I should be happy for the couple—part of me thinks of Corduroy the bear, and the warmth of “I guess I’ve always wanted a friend” as Lisa sews on his button and leads him to his mini-bed—but the rest of me knows that this bear will most likely share a fate similar to the polar bear and the panda (pseudo) bear: an unstoppable slide into oblivion.

Yep, plushie, your best times are behind you. Chances are that you’ll go from that spot of honor in her bedroom to the top of the trash heap before the summer ends. You’ll be lucky if your tear-stained carcass makes it to the dump in one piece. If your original owner plays it right, you might arrive missing an arm or an eye, or Sharpied with threats and curses, or with a gaping obsidian chest wound like some Aztec captive. You might get drawn and quartered if he’s really a player!

So here’s to High School Love! Here’s to Valentine’s Day!

(I should note at this point how much I’m still deeply in love with Molly. Reader(s), don’t think this bear’s fate reflects poorly on my own High School Teacher Love. That’s a vastly better and deeper love, and one that’s bigger than the average bear.)