That day is upon us, Valentine’s Day.  A girlfriend and I have referred to it as “Happy V.D.” for years, followed by much giggling.   Valentine’s Day is  quite a conundrum.  I like the idea of celebrating love, but find the whole day, kind of a set up for failure.

If I chose to say I am above that “kind of manufactured display of love” and not participate, certainly I’m unhappy.  Where are my chocolates?  Thank God, I no longer work in an office where the relentless parade of delivered flowers consumed me.  I can honestly say, what I dislike the most, is the exclusionary aspect of the celebration.  You don’t have a Valentine?

I did a little research on the origins of Valentine’s Day using the Wikipedia encyclopedia, only to discover its beginnings had little to do with “romantic love”…

The feast of St. Valentine was first decreed in 496 by Pope Gelasius, possibly as an attempt to supersede the pagan holiday of Lupercalia that was still being celebrated in fifth-century Rome.  Valentine was the name of one or more martyred Christian Saints.  Nothing is known about them except “their feats were known to God”  - a dubious beginning to be sure.

It was in the 14th century that author Geoffrey Chaucer first associated the feast with the notion of “romantic love.”   Ummmm, so we can thank an author with a knack for refined “fart” jokes for this celebration…There is a certain kind of symmetry to that I think.

As you can guess, I do like to participate in Valentine’s Day.  However, I have modified it to fit me.  I send Valentines to my girlfriends.  I give my husband instructions, “Chocolate and lingerie.”    (“Lingerie” can easily be exchanged for “shiny baubles” depending how I feel about my dress size that year.)  I buy my husband and my kids something small with homemade cards attached.  And, I buy myself flowers.   Pretty, pretty flowers.  Happy V.D.