I Hate Valentine's Day

Call me a cynic, but I am no advocate of the holiday called Valentine's Day. I squarely blame Hallmark for creating yet another holiday based on a martyred saint that forces people to purchase gaudy pink cards and *shiver* balloons that proclaim "I love you" and the scourge of the flower race, red roses. Let's be honest, there's a cottage industry in creating popular holidays that serve only to fuel sentimentality which then improves the retail economy. Bah!

While that's one aspect of my issue with Valentine's Day, there are other deep seeded reasons why I think this particular holiday is unhealthy.

1. The pressure it creates on our menfolk to deliver is horrendous. Fang and I have ignored this holiday for twenty years. That makes us freakish by all standards (and well, we are). But most normal people consider this day sacred in the annals of a relationship. A woman has an expectation of some sort of floral largesse, some expression of passionate outpouring expressed in physical substance and a romantic dinner at some place with flattering lighting and goddamn rose petals. Most men are procrastinators and will wait till the day before. Then, they panic, spend far too much money for flower delivery, a dinner with a padded prix fixe menu and whatnot. You have to hope the gesture alone will get them laid. At least. It's horrendous pressure and still, you can be sure that despite their best efforts, something will get fucked up. Arguments ensue. You have to feel for menfolk on this day. I do.

2. On the other hand, there is the dynamic of the female posturing. This usually happens at work when the flower deliveries start to come in. They retrieve their bounty in the bottle green vases and parade them around the longest route to their desk, showing off their value to the envy of their co-workers. They post the vase in a prominent spot (generally at the top of a high file cabinet so it can be seen from a three mile radius). Like peacocks strutting for a mate, the women flaunt their in-office bounty as if to say to the other hens, "Look at me. I am loved, desired and valued. Take it, bitches." Well, that's actually cool if that makes them feel good, but there is a profound downside. The single, the lonely, the uncertain feel this sting from the peacocks most deeply. Not everyone has guilted their man into spending far more than he should. They won't say anything, being a polite society and all, but the worst of it is this: it's not a question of having a mate that undermines these souls--it's a question of their perception of their self-worth. The day may look different tomorrow, but in principle, it's always wrong to bring a sister down.

If we need to have a Valentine's Day, why not make it everyday. There’s the same sweet strain of the violin playing daily. It's there. So just go and capture it.