For a lot of teenagers, Valentine's Day might as well be called torture day. That's especially true if you're unlucky enough to have your birthday fall on February 14, when you wind up at the bottom of everyone's Valentine Day agenda. PNS commentator José Luis Padilla is on the staff of YO! (Youth Outlook), a newspaper by and about Bay Area teens produced by Pacific News Service.

Valentines Day sucks.

Admittedly, I haven't always felt that way. When I was in grammar school we'd have little parties and give each other homemade Valentine's Day cards. Now that I'm in my late teens, I know better. Give a girl a homemade card and she'll give you back the classifieds so you can find a job and buy her something (with the receipt attached, in case she wants to return it).

What makes it worse is that my birthday falls on Valentine's Day. Sure, it was probably cute for my mom to get such a wonderful child on the "day of love," but what about me? Didn't she ever consider that I'd wind up spending my birthdays at the bottom of everyone's Valentine Day agenda?

I get no attention from anyone on February 14. My mom goes out with her boyfriend, my sisters go out with theirs, and I can't do anything with my friends because they're all too busy courting their girlfriends. So there I am, in the dim, quiet house, enjoying the wild and entertaining habits of my goldfish.

My other pets take this annual opportunity to remind me of how pathetic I am. I watch my dog make his traditional round-trip journey from the dining room to the living room to the dining room. Today, as if to avoid upstaging my activity, he makes many stops, and naps between steps, so as to drag out his day. After every nap he looks at me as if to say, "Damn, are you still here?"

My bird is my best Valentine's Day companion. She's got yellow and blue feathers and a loud squawk, and she's murdered both of the male birds we've brought to live with her in the cage. The parrot doesn't have a name unless you count "fregado pajaro," which means damn bird. She sits on her perch grinning at the fact that I'm not doing anything special today. I'll bet if she could she'd be saying, "Ha! I don't see ya yelling "callate, fregado parajo!" now, smart guy."

Even worse than being ignored is how puny I feel when a friend makes a pity call. Like last Valentine's Day. I was sitting around wishing for a simple "Happy birthday!" when the phone rang. I could almost hear that "fregado parajo" mocking me under her parrot breath -- "Hello, lonely boy speaking -- hee, hee, hee."

The caller was my ex-girlfriend, wishing me a happy birthday. She hadn't called since last Valentine's Day. That day, I gave her a dozen red roses, chocolates, a crystal heart and a card of my own poetry. We spent all morning together at the beach, looking at the ocean, and talking about our future together. Then I dropped her off at her job and went home.

As fate would have it, she had forgotten her school bag so I returned to her job to give it to her. I found her standing in the middle of the store, clutching a new batch of roses and hugging some guy. When she saw me she accused me of spying on her and gave me the ax.

Still, I'm not a vengeful person, and I responded to her call with maturity. "Sorry, wrong number," I said and hung up. Then I star-69'ed her for almost an hour. Every time she picked up the phone I asked her if Bozo was home. When she asked "Who?", I hung up.

This year I need to find something more constructive to do with my misery. It's time to organize a campaign to end this superficial, capitalistic holiday started by some greeting card company.

After all, who needs a designated day to show our love for one another. We can live without Valentine's Day, and all those companies that feed off our natural feelings. Our wants, our needs, our constant search for a perfect mate should be communicated from within, not through some prefabricated heart icon or a little guy with a bow and arrow waiting to puncture us in a vital organ.

After spending my last birthday waiting for the torture to end, I hope everyone will join me this year in boycotting the day -- or at least its commercial representation. Let's turn February 14 back into José's birthday!