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Valentine’s Day typically arrives with a flurry of heart-shaped goodies and bouquets, however it’s not at all times a day of celebration for everybody. For a lot of, it may be chaotic, complicated, or perhaps a stark reminder of the complexities of relationships. Some individuals might discover themselves deeply in love with the romanticism and affection that the day promotes, whereas others dislike the commercialization or the strain to manifest an idealized love. This distinction of experiences and views obtained me interested by the potential for a Valentine’s Day gone awry for every of the 16 Myers-Briggs® character varieties. What could possibly be the worst model of the day particularly for every distinctive character? Let’s discover out!
Estimated studying time: 33 minutes
The Worst Valentines Day of Every Myers-Briggs® Character Kind
The ISTJ’s Worst Valentines Day Ever
The ISTJ’s Valentine’s Day started with a shock scavenger hunt concocted by their well-meaning associate, who thought unpredictability was the spice of life. At every cease, the ISTJ was met with a cacophony of noise—flash mobs declaring love, musicians enjoying loudly in intimate cafes, and noisy parades within the streets, all rigorously deliberate by their associate who beamed with delight at their ingenuity. The stoic ISTJ, craving order and peace, felt a mounting panic as they longed for a quiet dinner at residence as an alternative of this chaotic lovefest.
In an effort to maintain the “enjoyable” going, the associate then unveiled an infinite, glittering, heart-shaped balloon that appeared as if it could possibly be seen from house. The ISTJ, who appreciates practicality over bombast, was then requested to parade the monstrous balloon by means of the town as onlookers gawked and cheered. With every step, the ISTJ’s discomfort ballooned just like the monstrosity they had been tethered to, and the associate reveled within the consideration they had been smothering upon the ISTJ, who would a lot slightly have wilted flowers or a quiet ‘I like you’.
Dinner didn’t fare higher for the tradition-loving ISTJ. As an alternative of the reserved desk at their favourite native diner, their associate had whisked them away to a brand new avant-garde restaurant the place meals had been deconstructed and the essence of the meals was debated over in prolonged theoretical conversations. The ISTJ, preferring their meat and potatoes with out existential dialogue, was roped right into a debate about whether or not love was only a social assemble, all whereas choosing at a dish referred to as “The Vacancy of Ardour,” which suspiciously resembled foam.
The climax of the night hit when, over dessert, the associate determined it was the right second for an impulsive marriage proposal, full with a flashmob choir and a hoop hidden inside a tiny, edible idea automotive meant to represent their future journey collectively. With everybody’s eyes mounted on them, ready for an emotional response, the ISTJ felt the load of expectation to precise emotions on the spot. Completely mortified and gone the purpose of preserving their associate’s emotions, the ISTJ stood, pushed the idea automotive dessert apart, and muttered one thing about needing to prepare their sock drawer—a transparent sign the day’s spontaneity had come to an abrupt, albeit quiet, finish.
Discover out extra about ISTJs: ISTJ vs INTJ: Which One Are You?
The ENFP’s Valentine’s Day Nightmare
The ENFP wakes up on Valentine’s Day to search out themselves unwittingly enrolled in their very own model of ‘Groundhog Day’—besides, as an alternative of Invoice Murray and charming small-town quirks, it’s a day stuffed with essentially the most soul-sucking actions possible. Their important different, who prides themselves on supreme practicality, has meticulously deliberate each second of the day. It begins with the “Pleasure of Tax Submitting”—a pair’s workshop the place candy nothings are eclipsed by the seductive rustle of receipts and the intoxicating clack of calculators. The ENFP, whose spirit is as free as an unbridled mustang galloping throughout the plains, feels their inside baby weep.
Lunch gives little respite; the couple sits at a nondescript gray workplace cafeteria recognized for its relentless dedication to serving overboiled greens and cardboard-esque meatloaf. In the course of the meal, their important different launches right into a lecture on the practicality of beige and the frivolousness of the ENFP’s vibrant wardrobe. The café’s overhead lighting sparkles in a hypnotic rhythm, threatening to lull the ENFP into an existential disaster, and no quantity of ketchup can masks the style of their fading desires.
The afternoon is spent at a seminar entitled “Predictability: The Pathway to a Peaceable Life.” The ENFP, who thrives on creativity and the thrill of the brand new, is strapped in for hours of monotone monologues espousing the virtues of custom, routine, and the great thing about the anticipated. They’re handed pamphlets on the right way to create a extra orderly existence, every web page a nail within the coffin of their as soon as vibrant, imaginative soul. So as to add insult to damage, their associate enthusiastically joins the dialogue, citing examples of the ENFP’s previous “chaotic and wasteful inventive endeavors.”
As if the day may get no worse, dinner arrives within the type of a home-cooked meal—each dish a distinct shade of beige, each recipe stripped of any seasoning that may offend the sensibilities of the unimaginative. The crescendo of the night’s understated horror is a paint-by-numbers exercise, the place the ENFP’s associate insists that coloring throughout the strains will carry unparalleled satisfaction and a larger sense of life’s true which means. The ENFP stares on the dismal picture of a vase—which can invariably be coloured in various shades of gray—and wonders if their technicolor coronary heart can endure any additional compression.
Interested in ENFPs? Learn 24 Indicators That You’re an ENFP, The Visionary Character Kind
The ISFJ’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The ISFJ’s Valentine’s day started with what was meant to be a serene couple’s portray class—assume, quiet dialog and wine-sipping creativity. But, upon arrival, it was not the tranquil studio they envisioned. As an alternative, they discovered themselves within the midst of a paintballing session for {couples}, ducking and diving to keep away from the splattering colours, their garments a canvas to chaos, their senses overwhelmed by the cacophony of paintguns and shrill laughter.
Publish-battlefield, wanting much less like a pair on a romantic date and extra like summary artwork rejects, the ISFJ hoped for respite. However their associate insisted on capturing this “uncooked, actual second” with a spontaneous {couples} photoshoot within the messy apparel. An enthusiastic photographer directed them into wild, expressive poses amidst the park, clicking away as passersby noticed the spectacle.
The ISFJ’s misery grew at dinner in a fancy restaurant the place a humorist carried out roasts of the {couples}. To the ISFJ’s horror, their desk was spotlighted for “a bit pleasant enjoyable”—an excruciating set rife with non-public jokes turned public and digs about their paint-stained apparel. The room roared with laughter however the pleasant jabs felt extra like prickling thorns.
Searching for solace within the supposed sanctuary of their residence, the ISFJ was greeted by an elaborate, shock gathering of acquaintances—not even shut pals! Loud music blared from audio system, drinks spilled on their pristine flooring, and a boisterous sport of reality or dare commanded the focal point. The ISFJ’s residence, their haven, was a circus of uncoordinated chaos.
Because the night time wore on, the ISFJ felt their intimate Valentine’s Day morph right into a communal affair they hadn’t signed up for. As locations had been exchanged and the noise swelled, their associate’s smile appeared to interact everybody however them. Burdened with a smile that didn’t fairly attain their eyes, the ISFJ catered to unfamiliar friends, their sense of obligation wrestling with the will to flee to a quiet nook with a ebook. Exhausted, they retreated to mattress lengthy after midnight, questioning if it was all well worth the bother.
Discover out extra about ISFJs: ISFJs and Their Romantic Compatibility with Each Myers-Briggs Character Kind
The ENTP’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
Think about the dismay of an ENTP, whose Valentine’s Day commences not with a bang, however with a monotone whimper, courtesy of their date’s ardour for philatelic historical past—the finer factors of stamp historical past. Because the fanatic drones on, illustrating the minute variations between the 1840 Penny Black and the Two Pence Blue, the ENTP’s soul makes an attempt to astral venture to wherever else. Makes an attempt at steering the dialog in the direction of one thing—something—extra scintillating are met with an enthusiastic monologue about gum adhesive varieties by means of the ages.
For lunch, the ENTP is ushered to a vegan, gluten-free, soy-free, taste-free café that prides itself on serving meals as bland as its white-washed partitions. In an effort to appease their environmentally-conscious date, the ENTP nods alongside to a prolonged discourse on the significance of alfalfa sprouts in a contemporary eating regimen. In the meantime, their style buds grieve the absence of culinary journey, and their mind simmers in a pot of boiling disinterest.
The afternoon gives no reprieve, because the couple attends a sold-out seminar—“Coping together with your cat’s emotional hypersensitivity: A deep dive.” Right here, the gang absorbs tear-jerking tales of feline existential woes whereas the ENTP bitterly rues the shortage of logic in equating Mittens’ displeasure at her kibble’s form with emotional depth. Because the speaker gazes profoundly into the center distance, our hero’s sarcastic commentary is misplaced within the wave of empathetic nods and collective purring from the viewers.
Night approaches, and dinner is offered as an intimate affair in a comfortable nook of the town’s most infamous kitsch-themed eatery—”The Glitter Unicorn.” Surrounded by unicorns in various scales of pink and an abundance of glitter that defies the legal guidelines of physics, the ENTP feels their artwork of debate boring on this pastel jail. Determined makes an attempt to kickstart a logical dialogue are thwarted by the arrival of “The Serenading Cupid”—a chubby impersonator who belts out love ballads off-key, armed with a bow and suction-cupped arrows that discover their mark a bit too near the ENTP’s final nerve. Because the night ends with a ceremonial dance beneath the ‘Rainbow Love Arch,’ the ENTP plots a Valentine’s Day rise up—the next 12 months will likely be spent in splendid isolation, or on the very least, free from the tyranny of unicorns and emotional pet seminars.
Learn extra about ENTPs: The High 7 Present Concepts for ENTPs
The INTJ’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The INTJ’s Valentine’s Day kicked off with their associate’s heartwarming however misjudged endeavor to awaken their much less distinguished emotional aspect. Their morning espresso got here with a aspect of serenade from a employed guitarist, bursting into their minimalist condominium. The crooner belted out love ballads that may make a Victorian poet cringe, whereas the INTJ sipped their espresso, eager for the standard silence they wrapped round themselves like a comforting blanket. Mid-chorus, their associate—teary-eyed by the efficiency—joined in, turning the duet into an emotional cacophony, because the INTJ contemplated if they may program a robotic to feign feelings on their behalf.
Lunchtime arrived with the promise of calm, solely to disclose the couple booked in for a ‘Coronary heart-to-Coronary heart’ excessive zip-lining expertise, the place emotional confessions are inspired at every platform. With their associate zipping alongside, shouting phrases of affection in opposition to the wind, bystanders cheered from beneath, mistaking the INTJ’s stern focus for worry slightly than irritation on the blatant disregard for the non-public joys of gravity. Determined to debate the psychological implications of adrenaline on amorous confessions, the INTJ was as an alternative pulled into hug after hovering hug, making psychological notes to revamp their associate’s concept of emotional bonding.
By late afternoon, the INTJ felt hope as they returned to their sanctuary, hoping to search out peace amidst their cherished ebook assortment. But they had been met with the horror of their neatly organized bookshelves matted by their associate looking for ‘The 5 Love Languages,’ paradoxically misplaced in translation among the many classics. In the meantime, pals unexpectedly flooded in for a ‘informal’ Valentine’s gathering, waving emotional self-help books and insisting on group discussions about emotions. Every time the doorbell rang, it was as if one other chapter of their calm was being torn out, noisy interruptions and laughter cascading over the rigorously categorized sections of their life.
Night beckoned a retreat to the couple’s favourite mental hub—a quiet native library holding a Valentine’s themed poetry studying. However there was a twist; an interactive section had the INTJ forcibly teamed up with energetic strangers, narrating poems they composed on the spot whereas incorporating massive emotional expressions. To their abject horror, their associate—impressed by the day’s occasions—stood and delivered an impromptu declaration of everlasting love by means of a very dramatic sonnet, eliciting applause and bringing a close-by ebook membership to tears. The INTJ, managing a tight-lipped smile, plotted a Valentine’s Day subsequent 12 months that concerned a abandoned island, or perhaps a pleasant, quiet lunar colony.
Need to know extra about INTJs? 10 Issues You Ought to By no means Say to an INTJ
The ESFP’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The day of affection began with an ominous thrum for our ESFP protagonist as they awoke to not the aroma of their favourite breakfast in mattress however to a stark, silent room and a frightening, heavy present – a self-help ebook titled “The Artwork of Quiet: Discover Your Inside Peace.” The horror was palpable. As an brisk ESFP, the mere considered adopting the lifetime of a stoic monk, to merely sit and exist, was akin to being requested to weave their very own straitjacket from threads of lifeless inaction. The second their associate recommended they spend the day working towards ‘mindfulness’ by means of varied sitting poses, the ESFP’s smile strained. They already pictured themselves fashioning an escape rope from the ebook’s pages.
Lunchtime introduced no comfort, as pricey pals had apparently conspired in opposition to all that the ESFP held pricey. They had been dragged to a “Silence & Salad” eating expertise—the place talking was strictly forbidden, and the menu was an insult to the time period ‘selection’. The ESFP, at all times one to experience jovial banter and a hearty meal, discovered themselves gesticulating wildly, making an attempt to orchestrate a mime’s efficiency to speak their want for taste and conversational spark. Their efforts had been solely met with stern shushes and condescending nods, suggesting they embrace the ‘tranquility’ of their crisp, flavorless lettuce.
The afternoon appeared to plot a coup in opposition to their soul. It introduced its arrival with an invite to – watch for it – a “Knitting for {Couples}” workshop. The ESFP muttered a silent prayer for power-knitters to expediently knit them an invisibility cloak. With every methodical sew and purl, the colourful, action-craving spirit of the ESFP was tethered tighter and tighter to the chair. They solid longing glances on the window, envisioning themselves somersaulting into the liberty of the streets, away from the monotonous tyranny of yarn. Their associate’s enthusiastic cries of “Isn’t this thrilling?” solely rubbed salt into their fraying sanity. Why had they agreed to this relationship once more?
Night beckoned with the promise of a romantic dinner at their favourite restaurant. Lastly, they may indulge of their love for good meals and nice firm. Alas, the universe had different plans, because the night progressed with a twist – each course of the meal was to be accompanied by a lecture on its dietary worth and mindfulness practices. Earlier than taking a chew, the ESFP was inspired to take a seat quietly and meditate on the elements, their origins, and their significance. In the meantime, their associate fortunately raved about the advantages of kale and quinoa whereas the ESFP’s abdomen grumbled in protest. They vowed to by no means once more combine meals with philosophy.
Defeated and ravenous, the ESFP resorted to stuffing their face with bread rolls for sustenance and daydreaming of their subsequent meal at a restaurant that celebrated the enjoyment of consuming. As they paid the invoice (beneath the guise of utilizing the restroom), they made a psychological notice to plan subsequent 12 months’s Valentine’s Day away from anybody who recommended aware actions or vitamin lectures.
The INFJ’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
Clad of their most interesting outfit, the INFJ set out on Valentine’s Day with the optimism of an ant who believes it’s attainable to maneuver a rubber tree plant. The omens had been there when their associate crowed with delight, ushering them right into a ‘Shock Karaoke Love Match.’ The venue was packed like a New York subway at rush hour—simply with extra sequins and off-key renditions of “Infinite Love.” Because the microphone was thrust into their palms, the INFJ’s inside sanctuary crumbled like a home of playing cards in a wind tunnel, every screeching speaker violating their soul’s want for quietude and significant dialog. They belted out a trembling tune, all of the whereas dreaming of being residence with their favourite ebook and a cup of natural tea.
Subsequent, their associate whisked them to a household lunch that was much less of group hug and extra of a blended martial arts contest for the soul. Think about a Thanksgiving dinner, however as an alternative of turkey, you’re served a piping sizzling plate of pent-up grievances. This was a symphony of discord the place each member of the family was a soloist. Aunt Suzanne aired her soiled laundry, Uncle Bob debated politics with Grandpa Joe, which resulted in Grandma Rose reciting the Bible and praying for “household therapeutic” at an alarming decibel. The INFJ, who naturally doubles because the resident shrink, tried to throw lifelines of empathy into the tumultuous sea of shouts, however they themselves had been capsizing beneath the cacophony of household “enjoyable”. It was the emotional equal of making an attempt to wallpaper throughout a hurricane.
Afterwards, as if the day wanted extra sparks, the couple attended a celebration that was the love baby of Mardi Gras and a rock live performance. Our INFJ was engulfed by raucous crowds celebrating all the things they abhorred—loudness, chitchat, and the distressing sense of human proximity greatest reserved for sardines. The noise was like performing a symphony with chainsaws, and each unintended elbow jab to their aspect felt like Cupid had traded his bow and arrow for a battering ram—all set in opposition to the backdrop of a playlist that shouted ‘romantic atmosphere’ as a lot as a jackhammer serenades a dawn.
By some means, by means of the hurricane of karaoke, the cacophonic household feud, and the Mardi Gras-Rock live performance love baby, our courageous INFJ survived. However, because the night unrolled its crimson carpet of torturous revelry, the INFJ plotted their escape. They feigned a sudden allergy to get together balloons and confetti, gasping with the conviction of a Shakespearian actor dealing with their tragic finish. Involved but barely befuddled, the associate agreed to escort them residence. Upon their hasty return, the INFJ wasted no time retreating into their sanctum sanctorum—their pristinely quiet residence.
Inside, they had been greeted by the candy symphony of solitude: the distant hum of a fridge, the occasional creak of a snug home settling into the night time, and the elegant absence of people making an attempt to achieve decibel ranges that might summon dolphins. As they snuggled into their favourite armchair, ebook in hand, the INFJ mirrored on the day’s occasions—every stuffed with good intentions but so painfully opposite to their very own concept of an ideal Valentine’s Day.
Discover out extra about INFJs: 24 Indicators You’re an INFJ, the Mystic Character Kind
The ESTP’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The ESTP’s Valentine’s Day started with the promise of journey that shortly deflated like a misguided dart to a balloon. Their date, with eyes glistening with pleasure, unveiled the day’s itinerary – a Historic Lecture on the Evolution of Handwriting. Barricaded in a room with grey partitions magnifying the monotone drone of the presenter, the ESTP’s soul itched for an escape hatch. Their solely savior was the clock, which appeared to tick with the lethargy of a sloth on trip, and every minute felt like a private affront to their want for freedom.
Lunch managed to amplify the tedium. The couple was roped right into a ‘Reflective Silence Retreat’ the place the one factor served quicker than the uncooked broccoli and unseasoned tofu was the silence. Right here, the ESTP’s normally sharp wit and tongue had been prisoners to the vow of silence, their typical avenue of storytelling and banter blocked by an invisible drive area of solemn introspection. The ESTP, recognized for dwelling within the right here and now, discovered their thoughts retreating into fantasies of a high-speed automotive chase – something to really feel the frenzy of spontaneity once more.
The afternoon was an train in sedated restraint as they wandered right into a Couple’s Watch-Portray Workshop, the place “the great thing about time stands nonetheless,” fairly actually. Armed with the tiniest of brushes, the ESTP was anticipated to color intricate patterns on watch faces, participating in a minute ‘labor of affection’—which in actuality was akin to performing surgical procedure with mittens. Their associate oohed and aahed on the delicate process whereas the ESTP fought again yawns, their fingers itching for motion that didn’t contain microscopic strokes or pained focus.
As night crept upon the stressed ESTP, the ultimate flourish was revealed – a ‘Hearth-side Philosophical Debate’. Touted as an enlightening alternate beneath the celebrities, it shortly spiraled into an abyss of verbose pontifications and hypothetical musings. There they sat, the uncooked night time air aglow with pretension as phrases like ‘existentialism’ and ‘phenomenological’ took flight, prompting eye-rolls so intense the ESTP feared they could dislodge a retina. Every puff of rhetorical fluff hovered like a cloud; a fog of lifeless, meandering introspection that was slowly suffocating their adrenaline-fueled essence. They made a psychological bookmark on this night time – to keep away from future Valentine’s dates that resemble a take a look at of endurance, slightly than an expression of romance.
Uncover extra about ESTPs: The Flirting Model of the ESTP Character Kind
The ISTP’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The ISTP’s Valentine’s Day debacle commenced with what was meant to be a delicate morning shock however as an alternative unfolded into an emotional ambush. As they awoke to their associate’s face hovering inches away, the ISTP was assaulted by a piercing serenade of “their track” on a kazoo. The sheer depth of the off-key efficiency ushered in a stage of awkwardness that might make onions cry. It was an affectionate gesture gone rogue, leaving the ISTP in a quiet craving for the candy reprieve of solitude and silence.
The afternoon provided no sanctuary; it propagated the day’s theme — invasions of private house and uninvited psychoanalysis. In an ill-fated try and foster “intimate connection”, the ISTP discovered themselves cornered at a ‘{Couples} Remedy Crafting Nook’, binding twigs and emotions collectively to create ‘Symbolic Love Nests’. The ISTP fought the urge to dismantle their creation, feeling like a hen of prey caged amidst a flock of cooing doves. There was glue in every single place, and the ISTP’s associate unreservedly shared each sticky sentiment, broadcasting their unsolicited emotional insights with the group, turning the ISTP’s discomfort into public spectacle.
As night approached, the ISTP was painstakingly enrolled in a ‘Moonlight {Couples} Yoga’, which promised to align extra than simply chakras. Ensnared on a mat, they contorted themselves into reluctant pretzels beneath the celebrities, as their associate admired how the ‘Coronary heart Opener’ pose allowed one to turn into extra weak. The ISTP’s thoughts drifted to the storage bay again residence, the place their trusty bike sat, throbbing gently for the open highway — a metallic machine devoid of any expectations or want for emotional contortion.
The finale of this ordeal was the pièce de résistance, a ‘Dinner beneath the Cover of Love’ — a five-course meal whereby every dish got here with a aspect order of oversharing from their now mopey associate. Thunderclouds of complaints in regards to the world rumbled ominously, because the ISTP navigated by means of their associate’s monsoon of grievances. “Why do you at all times keep away from deep conversations?” their associate pleaded, leaving the ISTP questioning if it was too late to order in a pizza as an alternative. They silently vowed to by no means once more fall prey to the business lure of Valentine’s Day, the place love is served with a aspect order of undesirable intimacy.
Discover out extra about ISTPs: The High 7 Present Concepts for ISTPs
The ENFJ’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The ENFJ’s Valentine’s Day began with what can solely be described because the antithesis of heartfelt romanticism. Their alarming wake-up name wasn’t the anticipated breakfast in mattress, however slightly the piercing sound of the fireplace alarm, triggered by their associate’s failed try at a culinary delight. With bleary eyes and bedhead, the ENFJ discovered themselves comforting their smoke-inhalation-coughing companion, declaring love amidst the haze of burnt toast that wafted by means of the air.
Then got here the present alternate, a second ripe with potential for considerate gestures. Nevertheless, the ENFJ’s hope for one thing private and intimate had been crushed as their associate offered them with a do-it-yourself scrapbook — a set of printed memes, all that includes cats making poor life selections. Whereas the ENFJ plastered on a smile that could possibly be seen as real solely to the really nearsighted, inside, they had been reassessing their life selections, together with spending Valentine’s with an individual who apparently fell for the primary concept on a DIY craft web site.
After perusing the scrapbook and making an attempt to giggle alongside to their associate’s obvious glee over the cat memes, the ENFJ held on to the final vestiges of hope for a deep, significant dialog to salvage the day. Maybe they’d put together a candlelit alternate in regards to the which means of life in one among their favourite eating places! As an alternative, their associate excitedly advised them their day was all booked up and, grinning with the triumph, queued up a actuality present marathon of Jersey Shore and Toddlers in Tiaras. The ENFJ tried to quietly vacate the premises, however their associate saved telling them how a lot they’d been wanting ahead to this as a approach to chill out and bond as a pair. As every episode rolled in like an unstoppable wave of spray tans and fitness center musings, the ENFJ, recognized for his or her depth, discovered themselves desperately gasping for a lifeline of existential depth that was nowhere in sight.
As night time fell, dinner appeared promising till the vacation spot grew to become clear: a fast-food joint bedecked with wilted balloons and an unsettling quantity of fluorescent lighting. Their reserved ‘Love Sales space’, which their associate gained by means of a radio contest, was set amidst the ambiance of kids’s birthday events and the chaos of a misplaced ketchup squirt-gun battle. As their associate mumbled candy nothings over a tray of soggy fries, the ENFJ was serenaded by the restaurant’s off-duty mascot — an individual in a rooster go well with enjoying a keytar. As they shared a romance-infused, grease-laden burrito, the ENFJ mused that subsequent 12 months’s Valentine’s is likely to be higher spent at a silent retreat… alone.
Uncover extra about ENFJs: 7 Methods That ENFJs Make an Affect
The ISFP’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The ISFP’s day kicked off with what could possibly be described as a shock breakfast in mattress if you happen to take into account a scalding sizzling espresso spilling in your lap as a aspect order to charred pancakes as ‘breakfast in mattress’. This was the ISFP’s first brush with Sizzling Lap Syndrome—a situation not even remotely romantic.
However wait, there’s extra! When their associate determined to point out their love by means of the present of a mixtape—a mixtape stuffed with recordings of themselves dramatically studying love poems they discovered by Googling “What phrases rhyme with ‘soulmate’?”—cringe ranges soared by means of the roof. As every newbie sonnet butchered the idea of meter and rhyme, the ISFP grimaced with a drive that might’ve cracked nuts.
But the actual cherry on high of this sundae of awkwardness got here within the guise of a Valentine’s Day get together meticulously crafted by their associate to showcase the ISFP’s artwork – artwork they’d saved hidden away of their bed room closet as a result of it was only for them. That is an artwork present no person requested for, particularly the ISFP. Placed on the spot, they needed to navigate a sea of feigned curiosity and shallow interpretations of their deepest and most non-public private expressions, peppered with unsolicited recommendation on ‘actual artwork’ from of us who couldn’t inform a Picasso from a pizza.
Because the artwork present ambled on, the ISFP felt waves of discomfort, understanding their uncooked feelings and inside musings had been on full show, framed on partitions they by no means needed for them. However the grand finale to this distressing episode was but to come back. The associate, thriving on what they misunderstood as enthusiasm, launched into an impromptu public sale of the ISFP’s artwork. The air thickened with awkwardness as pals and strangers held up paddles, throwing out bids on work that had been by no means meant to depart the sanctuary of the closet. As each bit was ‘offered’, a bit a part of the ISFP’s soul felt bartered away in a discount deal they by no means signed up for.
The night segued into what their associate termed a ‘romantic scavenger hunt’, which in obscure actuality was nothing greater than a wild goose chase by means of city for objects that held no significance to both of them. Retrieving a misplaced sock from the native laundromat and searching down a half-eaten bagel from a bakery’s dumpster had been however just a few of the weird duties. With every discover, their associate squealed with delight, satisfied they had been making treasured reminiscences, whereas the ISFP contemplated the existential query, “Is that this what soulmates do?” Lastly, as they unearthed a worn plush toy from beneath the park bench, it grew to become clear—subsequent 12 months’s Valentine’s can be strictly solo, and their artwork can be removed from the palms of strangers.
Discover out extra about ISFPs: 24 Indicators That You’re an ISFP, the Virtuoso Character Kind
The ENTJ’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
For the ENTJ, the final word Valentine’s Day nightmare concerned watching their meticulously deliberate itinerary crumble within the face of dismal inefficiency. The day started with what was imagined to be a romantic sizzling air balloon trip at daybreak. The ENTJ had visualized a serene ascent into the sky, champagne in hand, greeting the dawn with the love of their life. As an alternative, they discovered themselves standing in a soggy area, listening to the pilot clarify that they had been nonetheless ready on a essential half: the balloon. It appeared procrastination was the actual theme of the day, as hours ticked by with none signal of uplift, fairly actually.
As if the disappeared balloon wasn’t sufficient, their associate unveiled a shock – a pair’s pottery-making session. “It’s like that film with Ghost!” declared their associate, with an eye-stretching stage of earnestness that recommended this was the head of romance. The ENTJ, who seen such amorphous and unproductive actions with the passion of attending a snail racing contest, was then subjected to an hour of squishing clay between their fingers. The ensuing “sculpture” bore an uncanny resemblance to a sure male physique half, which their associate appeared to search out amusing and endearing. The ENTJ couldn’t watch for the subsequent exercise of stirring paint with their ft.
Then got here what was meant to be an aesthetic, quiet dinner on the metropolis’s most famed restaurant. The ENTJ had visions of deep dialog over a spicy and flavorful menu, paired with the best wines. Nevertheless, as an alternative they discovered themselves sitting in a staunchly vegan restaurant, a spot the place seitan dominated supreme and tofu was king. Their biblically minimalist meal—a single artichoke coronary heart on a mattress of untamed lettuce—stood a far cry from the feast that they had envisioned.
Because the strained music of a sitar participant stuffed the room, their associate, fueled by the emotional tide that usually accompanies feasting on legumes, unleashed an unfiltered torrent of grievances. Between sips of kombucha, their associate lamented the ENTJ’s unrelenting devotion to work—a schedule that left little room for impromptu date nights or noon messages of affection—and recited an exhaustive record of perceived neglects. From the forgotten month-to-month anniversaries to the “enterprise tone” in private texts, the ENTJ was served a full course of critiques that made the vegan cheese platter appear delectable as compared. The ENTJ may solely chew on the irony that their relentless pursuit of success was meant to pave the best way for a brighter future for each, not drive a wedge by means of their current.
To cap off this pageant of anticlimaxes, their associate dragged them to an area poetry slam – all about love, after all. The ENTJ’s discomfort was palpable as they had been surrounded by individuals oozing what may solely be described as emotional incontinence, reciting cringe-worthy, spontaneous haikus like “Your eyes, like the ocean / After a storm, however with extra / Kelp and lifeless fish vibes.” Because the ENTJ sat there, compelled to clap for what appeared like an eternity, they plotted a 12-step tactical plan to make sure that subsequent 12 months’s Valentine’s would contain a solitary journey to wherever poetry and impromptu artwork auctions had been legally prohibited.
Interested in ENTJs? Learn 10 Issues You Ought to By no means Say to an ENTJ
The INTP’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
Wading into the emotional chaos of Valentine’s Day, the INTP had one want: to by some means teleport to the twenty fifth of February—far, far-off from the emotional storm of the 14th. As an alternative, the INTP discovered themselves at a household gathering that was much less romantic dinner and extra akin to a taping of “The Jerry Springer Present” if the theme was “Love and Different Catastrophes.” Kinfolk, whose major mode of affection was high-decibel nagging, engaged in love wars so intense, the UN would have retreated. And there, within the eye of the storm, sat our INTP, armed with nothing however a wilted rose and a frazzled expression, silently devising algorithms to calculate the precise second issues would go from dangerous to apocalyptic.
However the universe, with its quirky humorousness, was simply getting began. Dinner was served, and the INTP, in an ill-fated try to interact in “mild dialog,” casually talked about the St. Valentine’s Day Bloodbath—not as a romantic gesture however as an attention-grabbing historic occasion. Let’s simply say, the following silence was so thick you possibly can lower it with a heart-shaped cookie cutter. Aunt Gertrude, at all times one for drama, interpreted this as a private jab at her notoriously dangerous luck in love, and the INTP realized that they had involuntarily tossed a grenade of awkwardness into the salad bowl.
Feeling the necessity to recuperate, the INTP tried to pivot the dialog to safer grounds—just like the fascinating chemical reactions that happen within the mind throughout infatuation. Nevertheless, their well-meaning lecture was systematically drowned out by the wails of Cousin Millie, whose newest romantic debacle was enjoying out in real-time over loudspeaker telephone for all to listen to. It was like a cleaning soap opera, with horrible reception and no capacity to vary the channel. The INTP’s discomfort index skyrocketed quicker than Elon Musk’s ambitions for Mars, as they realized that the household’s emotional effusiveness matched the thrills of a curler coaster, minus the protection harness.
The coup de grâce? The household determined to play a “enjoyable” sport: charades, with a twist of true confessions. The INTP tried to imitate Romeo in silent desperation however was mistaken for miming an individual having an allergic response to shellfish. Because the night time crescendoed with aunts and uncles airing soiled laundry with the zeal of confessional sales space regulars, the INTP plotted a swift exit technique involving a rest room window and a pre-ordered Uber. In an evening of emotional chaos, household drama, and dialog misfires, this INTP’s Valentine’s Day had all of the hallmarks of a love-themed haunted home, leaving just one certainty: subsequent 12 months, their Valentine’s date can be a quiet nook in a library… on a distinct planet, if attainable.
Discover out extra about INTPs: 24 Indicators That You’re an INTP, the Prodigy Character Kind
The ESFJ’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
For the ESFJ, Valentine’s Day is a day to be meticulously deliberate all the way down to the final petal and violin notice. However as with all nice plans, the Universe laughs, and it started with a less-than-romantic wakeup name: a prank buzzer of their hand, planted by their ever-so-charming roommate. There’s nothing like a jarring ZAP of electrical energy to zap away the temper of affection.
The ESFJ had each minute timed completely, however their date had totally different concepts—beginning with a joke about exhibiting up fashionably late… by three hours, and never fashionably, however slightly with a style that screamed “I obtained dressed at nighttime… in 1986”. The ESFJ, holding again tears and the overwhelming need to re-iron their completely pressed outfit, welcomed their date with heat, which was instantly shot down by an accusation of making an attempt to “manipulate into getting a greater present.” Ah, the candy odor of misjudgment, nearly as robust because the cologne that the date bathed in—Eau de Desperation, perhaps?
The night, already skating on the skinny ice of catastrophe, took a nosedive into the surreal when the ESFJ’s meticulously chosen restaurant turned out to be internet hosting an “Exes Nameless” assist group. Image it: dim lighting, delicate music, and each jiffy, somebody stands up and says, “Hello, I’m Jared, and it’s been three months since I final Fb-stalked my ex.” The one issues lacking had been divorce attorneys handing out enterprise playing cards by candlelight.
Simply when the ESFJ thought the night couldn’t spiral to any additional depths, their date determined to up the ante by unleashing an unsavory rant on the unsuspecting waitstaff over the audacity to serve water and not using a lemon slice—as if it was a private affront on par with a Shakespearean betrayal. The tirade which included phrases like “incompetence” and phrases like “I may get higher service at a child’s birthday celebration!” was delivered with the aptitude of an newbie actor going for an Oscar within the class of “Finest Efficiency by a Jerk in a Eating Scene.” Mortified, the ESFJ, in a second of sheer panic, improvised an escape plan involving a faux telephone name from a non-existent neighbor about an imagined disaster regarding a pet—a pet that they didn’t even personal. With apologies cascading out of their mouth quicker than the date’s grievances, the ESFJ made a beeline for the door, not even wanting again as they vowed to show Valentine’s Day into simply one other Tuesday with a aspect order of “No Dates Allowed.”
The INFP’s Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
The INFP’s Valentine’s escapade began off predictably quirky, with the type of optimism that solely an INFP, cradling an armful of second-hand poetry books, may muster. Their date, discovered by means of a relationship app that promised deep connections based mostly on ebook preferences, turned out to be somebody who thought “Orwellian” meant associated to Orville Redenbacher’s popcorn. Over dinner, in a restaurant with extra neon than the Las Vegas Strip, their date leaned in and whispered what they thought was an mental perception, “Do you know, like, the Earth is certainly flat as a result of if it had been spherical, like, we’d all fall off?” The INFP, stifling a sob into their tofu burger (ordered for them by their date), added yet another merchandise to their already lengthy record of “Causes Why I Ought to Change into a Hermit.”
As if the flat earth debate wasn’t sufficient to drive the nail into the coffin of romance, the INFP’s eyes darted desperately across the restaurant, hoping for a distraction. That’s when the magician confirmed up. A magician, inexplicably booked on Valentine’s Day to carry out tips that almost all actually didn’t contain making awkward dates disappear. As an alternative, the magician pulled out his pièce de résistance, a trick involving dwell doves, a lighter, and what can solely be described as a misunderstanding of the phrase “astonishment.” Sadly, the trick concluded with a charred feather floating romantically all the way down to relaxation atop the INFP’s crème brûlée, turning their dessert right into a scene from a bird-themed horror movie.
With the night’s leisure traumatically burned into their reminiscence, the INFP hoped for a reprieve as they selected to take a moonlit stroll. Nevertheless, their date had a distinct concept and abruptly revealed an aggressive ardour for power-walking. The INFP, being dragged alongside like a procuring cart with a wonky wheel, tried to steer the dialog into one thing remotely significant. They identified constellations, solely to be corrected that these had been, in actual fact, “authorities surveillance drones”. And with the romance of an informant, the date pontificated at size in regards to the superiority of Velcro sneakers over all different fastenings—a monologue that by some means managed to elude appeal fully.
Returning residence, the INFP’s door slams, and they’re greeted by the deafening silence of their cat, Mr. Whiskerpoof, who’s by comparability a paragon of mental stimulation. With a heavy coronary heart, the INFP mirrored on the night time’s occasions and concluded that Valentine’s Day, henceforth, can be an event devoted to solitary poetic musings and high quality time with Mr. Whiskerpoof, who, bless his soul, has by no means as soon as tried to make her power-walk wherever.
Uncover extra about INFPs: INFPs and Their Compatibility with Each Myers-Briggs® Character Kind
The ESTJ’s Worst Valentine’s Day Catastrophe
The story of the ESTJ’s Valentine’s Day is one to be entered into the Corridor of Infamy, to be whispered about within the hallowed halls of relationship catastrophe legends. It started with what one may generously name an ‘inventive interpretation’ of punctuality. The ESTJ arrived on the agreed-upon rendezvous—a stylish little café with pretensions of grandeur that served lattes extra sophisticated than Rubik’s cubes—timing their look all the way down to the second, solely to be met with an area as empty as their date’s assurances of being “proper across the nook. Because the minutes ticked by, our ESTJ’s well-scheduled world started to crumble like a stale scone at a reduction bakery.
When the date lastly arrived—hair matted in a way that recommended a current tussle with a low-speed ceiling fan—the ESTJ was served a piping sizzling cup of frustration. It shortly grew to become clear that their date’s character was extra synthetic than the sweetener of their espresso. Talking with the form of conviction typically seen in individuals who spend an excessive amount of time curating their Instagram persona, they started spinning tales of their ‘big-time’ job and ‘important’ social media affect. To the ESTJ, this charade was much less interesting than consuming a bouquet of roses, thorns and all.
Then got here the meal, an ordeal made no much less difficult by the date’s insistence on detailing each single one among their life’s woes—none of which, apparently, could possibly be attributed to any private failings. The ESTJ sat there, listening to the monologue of self-pity, considering that even a tax audit carried out by a dentist can be extra pleasurable. And because the after-dinner mints arrived, signaling the meal’s merciful finish, the date leaned again, shrugged, and stated, “I don’t imagine in wallets or tasks.” The ESTJ’s eyes narrowed, and the battle cry of “Test, please!” echoed of their soul.
The ESTJ stepped out into the crisp night time air, their steps echoing with the type of exact rhythm that solely comes from an individual keen to revive order. The drive residence was quiet, their thoughts alighting upon every second of the night, submitting it away beneath ‘classes realized’. As soon as residence, the therapeutic strategy of organizational catharsis started. Out got here the label maker, the to-do lists, and the trusty planner. They indulged within the quiet satisfaction of color-coding their schedule, harmonizing appointments, and aligning duties with effectivity that calms their rapidly-beating coronary heart. With every merchandise neatly tucked into its rightful place, a semblance of peace descended upon the ESTJ. The chaos of the night was distilled right into a sequence of motion objects, reworking disarray right into a neatly outlined plan for the times forward.
Discover out extra about ESTJs: 24 Indicators That You’re an ESTJ Character Kind
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