Reflections on Valentine's Day...or Leave a 20 on the Nightstand on Your Way Out

This weekend marks the celebration of everyone's (least) favorite Hallmark Holiday, Valentine's Day. Also known as that day of the year where inconsiderate and unappreciative behavior is supposed to be atoned with a box of chocolate and some flowers. Toss in a teddy bear if you've been especially thoughtless over the course of the past 365-someodd days. For those of us who are more hopeful about love and dating and all the drudgery it entails, it's a day to be as mushy as you please. A day where the dreaded PDA (that's Public Displays of Affection to the uninitiated) suddenly become socially acceptable and works wonders for making some sigh and swoon, while working equally well for making those with poor gag reflex suppression need mints (in this case, wouldn't it be a "vomint") on at least an hourly basis.

And while I find it counterproductive to sit here and complain about something that isn't even a real holiday, this year I can't help but feel a bit wistful. This is the first year in a while I will be spending this nonholiday alone. Granted, I'll be spending Monday night with not one but four or so "dates" (which sounds more exotic than the truthful term "buddies"), I am a bit disappointed that I won't even have someone to smooch at least once sometime during that day. And yet I am resolute to not just give of myself freely for the sake of having that Valentine's Day kiss. I'm not desparate yet. In fact, I have a short list of candidates. But I also know that sometimes, it's better to have nothing than something at all.

And even if nothing pans out (and no one is willing to acquiesce to my desires), I know that at the very least, I'll have fun with my friends. The people who I don't need to give cards to or get flowers from to show/receive appreciation. ...that's what holding hair and beers are for...

Luck of luck, this widely revered (reviled) day actually falls on a Monday, so perhaps I will be too busy to notice the swarm of lovey dovey when it descends on our poor town. But for today, I'll nurse my bruised pride and cracked core with a creamice (crack-ice?), a showing of Shaft, and a BBQ with a handful of people I'll infinitely love more than I ever will a flavor of the week. And I don't have to be mushy to show it.