February 14, 2011 § 2 Comments
As a kid, it was a day for grown-ups to express their love for each other, for people to fall in love (for ever and ever and ever), and an excuse for shops to go wild with pink and red decor.
As a teenager, it was a day of lovelorn longing, where my crush would never ever know of my interest, a reminder of how hopelessly sad at romance I was and the beginnings of some serious consideration about spending the rest of my life as a nun. For all of 24 hours.
As a young-ish adult in my 20s, it was an exercise in self-deprecation, when we formed the Lonely Hearts’ Club. We made a pact for posterity, to be there for each other through the heartbreaks. We would have dinner together every February 14 no matter what. It was our commitment, as lonely kindred souls, all searching for The One with whom we would spend the rest of our lives in Happily Ever After land. Except of course, we didn’t know what shape or form The One would come in, its outlook on life or its hygiene habits.
As a married woman, it’s a day for savoring some of the finest wit out there. Right now, I’ve been bitten by Francis Lam’s compelling commentary on the top Google searches for V-Day, just to see if the Olive Garden will keep its lead as America goes to dinner on this Day of Love. Although it’s seriously depressing to see that all the restaurants being searched for are franchise establishments that, in all likelihood, source their meat and produce from the least desirable sources on the planet, Lam’s writing is reason enough to gloss over that dark fact, if only for an evening.
Happy Valentine’s Day. May you receive exponentially more flowers and chocolates throughout the year than you supposedly should on this ‘day of love’.