I’m not really for or against Valentine’s Day (although I am FIRMLY against heart-shaped food products). I’m probably closer to the pro camp, maybe because flowers are pretty and love is nice, I mean, come on. So are puppies. Flowers, love, and puppies = bonus. But it’s a little more complicated than that, isn’t it.
I suppose the word is ambivalent. I am of two minds, conflicted, with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I’ve had some pretty miserable days in mid-February, when things were miserable anyway, and this one red-soaked day just exacerbated things. But usually on those days, I was making an effort – either with friends or potential lovers – and the effort went unnoticed or backfired. So, really, I was trying and it didn’t work. When you try stuff and it doesn’t work, that pretty much sucks the other 364 days of the year, too.
And, of course, I love Stuart and I tell him that every day, so other than making a heart with his pajama pants on the pillow last night (which I did), there’s no need for a pre-determined day to spend money on crappy chocolate. Again, see also: 364 other days.
I also don’t balk or rage at the Hallmark-ness of it all, mostly because I hate sounding like a boring cliche, but also because who can blame Hallmark? Every company that stands to make money off of holidays should do so, or fire their C.E.O. Are we really expecting that any decent restaurant, florist, or candy-maker should sit down its employees and discuss how this year, instead of lining their wallets as is their fiscal responsibility, they’re gonna take a STAND, man? Please. I choo-choo-choose a free-market economy, you know. I don’t begrudge those companies or hold them responsible for any and all present or past misery I might endure at having been single. It’s not ACTUALLY Hallmark’s fault that this one guy I liked one year invited me out and then sucked face with his ex in front of me. It’s not MY fault, either. It was his.
And while I’m sounding like a grumpy old man (kids! gettoffa my lawn!) I don’t like hypocrisy, either. I know people who’ve always hated Valentine’s Day, whether single or coupled, because they think it’s ______ (fill in your criticism here). Hey, I respect that. I also know people who always love it, think it’s a great idea to spread some love, whether they’re happily paired off or whether they’re hoping to have a hot moment with some stranger at a bar, or whether they just like the opportunity to send flowers to their best friend. I salute and respect both camps of people. Love it! Hate it! Just be consistent. I knew a guy that made a huge fuss one year of wearing black and drinking himself under the table, raging against this bullshit manufactured holiday, because a girl had just dumped him – a girl who, the year before, he’d wined and dined until they both happily drowned in honey or something. Please, dude. Your hypocrite is showing.
So, basically, this is where I stand: Eh! It’s a cute idea, it gets a little overplayed, and people definitely put themselves under too much pressure to enjoy or disown the whole day. I guess you could say I have the luxury of this point of view since I’m married, but I was more gushy about the whole concept when I was single. Now, Sundays are more romantic. Apartment-hunting is more romantic. Seeing him do the dishes is a pure aphrodisiac. My marriage, generally, is more romantic than flowers and chocolates. Which is pretty much as it should be. One day is never going to change your life for better or worse, so why would this one? So, I repeat: Eh! with a dash of pro because I don’t like the view from Bittertown.
And all told, I’ve caved to the standard interpretation of romance and either gone out to dinner or whipped up something decadent, but this year, we’re changing it up. Because while it’s definitely tempting to use the occasion to spend some dosh on dinner, Tim Hayward has now talked me out of it. He might talk you out of it, too. He’s convincing like that.
Good thing we’re going bowling, instead. It appeals to both my contrarian nature AND my willingness to use any excuse to have some fun. Because what says ROMANCE like soggy french fries, cheap beer, and ugly shoes?
Maybe a wheelbarrow of diamonds, actually.

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