You’re not having a good day, are you?

Because — call me Sherlock Holmes — if you’re reading this, you’re not furiously consummating your relationship with your lover, bathing in a bathtub full of rose petals or trying to stretch your arms around the 4-foot-tall teddy bear your boyfriend gave you. In other words, you’re having a lousy Valentine’s Day. And for that, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. But no, I’m not going to make out with you to assuage the pain. Well, maybe if you buy me dinner first …

It’s unfortunate I have a column on Valentine’s Day, because I have no interest in writing about the holiday; I have no sex advice, nor a mushy side, nor a list of great, dirt-cheap restaurants that don’t require reservations and sell bundles of roses out the back door for 50 cents. I don’t have a list of good-looking single people for all the desperate souls who e-mail me. Hell, it pains me even acknowledging the holiday, and I’m one of the lucky ones cashing in on the gifts that this holiday bestows upon a select few.

So let’s leave all that Valentine’s Day unpleasantness behind us and look on the bright side: At least you’re not in class right now — and if you are, you’re creative and bold when it comes to entertainment options (and for that, I salute you).

It’s taken me three and a half years, but I finally realized something about college classes: People don’t go. Except I go, because I’m an insufferable overachiever. I’ve come to realize that people don’t go to classes because they’re boring or useless; they don’t go because it’s so goddamn fun to skip, especially when you can get away with it. So, with my newfound epiphany in mind, I diagrammed UCSD’s ten-week cycle of absences:

First week: Students are psyched, which means we’re slightly less grumpy than usual. Classrooms are filled wall-to-wall 10 minutes before each class is scheduled to start; we’re eager to meet our (hopefully good-looking and intelligently sexy) professors and our (hopefully good-looking and intelligently sexy) classmates. And, of course, to size up the syllabus, which we will promptly lose. One clueless asshole asks the professor about the grading policy even though it’s printed in 16-point font on the very top of the syllabus; everyone takes note of who the asshole is and ostracizes him/her for the rest of the quarter. Class is adjourned after twenty minutes; most students disappear, not to be seen again until the day of the midterm.

Second week: The only people in class are the people working for A.S. Lecture Notes, insufferable overachievers and people lusting after the professor, who usually wear short skirts and sit in the front row.

Third week: Facing a nearly empty room, the professor complains that no one comes to his office hours and reminds students that “office hours are for you” and “it’s boring to have to sit in my office for two hours when no one comes to visit.” Then he adjourns class 10 minutes early so he can weep in private.

Fourth week: Students go to office hours to ask professor what will be on the midterm. Nervous about the upcoming exam, students flood the classroom and glare at the clueless asshole who asks if they will need to bring a bluebook.

Fifth week: Midterm day! Classroom is packed once again. The detested curve-setter finishes midterm in twenty minutes; the rest of the class quietly takes the exam, then leaves, never to be seen again — until the final.

Sixth week: With midterms out of the way, no one comes to class. Professor talks to himself and draws funny pictures on the blackboard.

Seventh week: Around 10 students realized they missed the midterm and come to class to beg for another chance to take it. The rest of the class comes to ask whether the midterm will be curved.

Eighth week: During sparsely attended lectures the professor mocks students, tells a story about his trip to France and extols the virtues of barber shaves. The few boot-lickers attending lecture pretend to appreciate his stories while wondering what the hell he’s talking about.

Ninth week: Pre-final jitters hit; classroom fills up once again with people who realize they don’t know the professor’s name, the topic of the class or what they did with the syllabus. Clueless asshole interrupts lecture to ask what will be on the final. Fed up, the professor makes a sarcastic remark in response to the clueless asshole; class laughs.

Tenth week: A few students come to class, hoping that the professor will drop hints about what will be asked on the final. The rest of the class simply can’t be bothered to get out of bed, even though the class is held at three in the afternoon.

Finals week: Students wander in, take final, and wander out, immediately forgetting everything pertaining to the class. The detested curve-setter finishes exam in 40 minutes and smugly walks out of the class to enjoy a V8 Splash in the sunshine outside.

Then, of course, the students head off to vacation, and the cycle begins anew next quarter. It’s not too different from high school, except the classes are more specialized, the teachers aren’t total clowns, and the “slackers” at the back of the class are actually the ones who screw up the curve for everyone else.

Well, that’s enough of that academic stuff. It’s time for me to enjoy my brand-new 4-foot-tall teddy bear and shower in some rose petals.