As much as I love Christmas, Valentine’s Day can suck it. In saying that I realize that is the goal of Valentine’s Day for most men. Also probably the reason it is abbreviated “VD”.
This is my 8th consecutive Valentine’s Day spent alone. I think. I’ve consumed enough wine during those years to kill off all my memory cells, three times over. Thankfully those suckers regenerate. I think.
It boggles my mind (dead brain cells notwithstanding) that it has been so many years. I realize I am quite picky (see the List of Men I Will Not Date), but really it is just holding out for chemistry. I think I got a “C” in chemistry in college, so that may be part of my problem. Maybe I just don’t understand chemistry. Perhaps I need to invest in some of those pheromone perfumes that are popular in Japan, along with owl cafes and Hello Kitty. I bet I could find a guy I’d like in an owl café. If you can drink a latte with an owl on your shoulder, you’re my kind of guy. But if you’re wearing an article of clothing with Hello Kitty on it, you will make the List.
I am an easy Valentine’s Day date. I don’t mean that the way it came out, but if you have a pet owl, I do. Every year my ex would ask me what I wanted to do for Valentine’s Day and my answer was always the same—pizza, beer/wine, and a hockey game. If chocolate covered cherries were added for dessert, I would throw sex in too. Seems like the perfect date from a guy’s perspective, right? So this year I had pizza, watched a hockey game and have wine. No cherries, so I guess I won’t be getting lucky. That’s ok, because I didn’t shave my legs anyway.
It’s just a commercial holiday drummed up by the greeting card and candy conglomerates to shame people into showing affection one day a year in exchange for sexual favors. Hallmark is just a pimp.
Being the dedicated writer I am, I researched just who this St. Valentine was anyway. By research I mean I checked Wikipedia. It turns out there isn’t even one St. Valentine. There’s a few who are claimed to be the @RealStValentine.
One St. Valentine was a priest in ancient Rome, who violated the edict of Emperor Claudius II by performing marriages for soldiers. He was imprisoned and became pen pals with the jailor’s blind daughter (did he write in Braille?). Before he was clubbed, stoned and beheaded, he performed a miracle and restored the girl’s sight. Now perhaps this story is true, Braille aside. But I wouldn’t think performing marriages for soldiers going off to battle has anything to do with chocolate.
Another legend has it that there was never an edict banning marriage, and instead soldiers were encouraged to be polygamists. This “St. Valentine” purportedly cut tiny hearts out of parchment for soldiers to carry to remind them of their marriage vows. He was sort of a crafty Dr. Phil. I’m not sure how that also led to beheading though, unless he used glitter.
I also read a third legend of St. Valentine. This one was also imprisoned by Emperor Claudius (I, Claudius?). Before he left his village church, he was a favorite of the village children and spent his time in prison writing little notes to them. Now, this story is not on Wikipedia. I’m sure it has something to do with church lawyers not wanting to perpetuate a story of a priest writing love notes to children.
What I learned from this research is that St. Valentine is a fraud. The legend perpetuated by the greeting card cartels does not exist. It may as well be Sasquatch Day. So I’m not falling for this propaganda holiday anymore. I encourage you, my equally jaded readers, to join me in this boycott.
Unless they come up with chocolate covered Sasquatches, there is no more VD for me.