New York - February 07, 2006

My Bloody Valentine

The Anti-Valentine’s Day Guide

At this point you’ve come to accept that Valentine’s Day is total crap.

You’ve also come to accept that you have a weakness for consumer-driven holidays.

Might as well think out of the box (of chocolates).

First things first: Heal your wounded soul at the Scorned Lovers kickboxing class, where you’ll beat the pulp out of punching bags made from photos of your stupid old SOB (The Gym, 11 East 26th Street; 212-889-3003). Recover (from love and bruises) with an over-the-top, four-handed Oriental Harmony Massage at the Mandarin Oriental.

Blow your cash on someone who won’t leave you for a cheap undergraduate floozy. Matchy-matchy dress shirts, pocket squares, and boxers from newly minted Lord Willy’s make for a more appealing threesome than that previously suggested by your ex. Lose the baggage when you lob off your locks for a good cause— and get a free cut and style in return (Antonio Prieto, 127 West 20th Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues; 212-255-3741).

You call yourself a baller? Real players don’t do real blooms. Get boo and your other bitches Tobias Wong’s bulletproof Ballistic Rose or kicks from the new Laces boutique. Then join the femmes at WET’s benefit performance of short plays on love (DVF Theater, 383 West 12th Street, between Washington and West Streets). Flirt shamelessly at the open bar.

Luckily, your shoe size won’t change after you indulge in Donatella (of the Ama and David Burke variety) Arpaia’s delicious almond cookies.

This Saturday and Tuesday, find Love lingering behind an unmarked door in the village: Fall for the Italo-disco and debauched dance jams on the turntables, a trippy lounge with rabbit holes, and all-around feeling of (old) Tunnel’s fuzzy room.

And give heartbreak a good kick where it counts.