O’er the Remains of St. Valentine
In modern times, February typically carries a red thread, right down its middle, which is commercially
designed to remind us to celebrate our romantic relationships with some self-abusive monetary
investment. More often than not, the stress of this expectation is second only to the gift giving
expectations delivered by Santa Claus. Statistically, greeting cards support my arithmetic.
According to the Greeting Card Association, an estimated one billion Valentine cards are sent each
year, making Valentine's Day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year. (An estimated 2.6
billion cards are sent for Christmas.)
Yes, this annual proof-providing ritual is particularly tough for the penis owners.
As a creative, I am notoriously, uh… thrifty. You see, I have to be. Fortunately, there is balance in
that the right hemisphere of my mind is extremely active in compensation for the echoing emptiness
in the folds of my wallet. It’s the artist’s diet plan. Go ahead and try to make a living as an artist.
You’ll see what I mean. I do love to give gifts, however. I just love it. I can’t even keep it secret for
terribly long, and this is how I used to justify procrastinating preparedness for holiday exchanges.
In recent years, I have committed to giving gifts on my terms and not those set by Hallmark or
antiquated religious remnants. This practice relieves me of stressful deadlines, too many of which I
already face, and it relieves my beloved of feeling they need to reciprocate immediately. It’s unfair to
give the gift of stress, in my mind. Removing these anxieties from gift-giving seems to return and
restore the point of the gesture. It says, “I love you, I think about you, and I don’t need to set an
alarm to practice it.”
Ah, but Saint Valentine’s Day is unforgiving and often heartlessly cruel. I’d love to learn the stats for
how many arguments result from Valentine’s Day expectations. How many relationships develop
terminal cancer over this centuries old tradition?
Historically, one legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served Roman Catholics during the
third century. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single, and thereby less cautious, men made
more effective soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men.
Valentine, realizing the detriment to procreative cultural survival, and, of course, the romantic
injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform secret marriages for young lovers.
When Valentine's defiance was discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.
Ah, martyrdom pour l’amour. Beheading, these days, seems to be appropriate punishment for just
forgetting to observe the holiday, or for merely failing to make some financially masochistic gesture.
Considering this, have we really evolved out of the barbaric behaviors in our history as nasty,
hairless primates?
But the cruelty of Saint Valentine’s Day has not spared those of us who are on the menu as a la
carte. There is also the self-abuse that those of us cram into our own hearts as the single sect. The
terrible things we do to ourselves often make beheading look more like heavy petting. To be alone
on Valentine’s Day is like going hungry on Thanksgiving or going sober on Saint Pattie’s Day. I am
single. I know these things. I like whiskey, and while I am in no way Irish, you can bet I’ll have some
in March. I doubt I will be “getting any” in February, however. This might make me a little sad. I like
having someone in my life who makes me feel good about myself and who enthusiastically provides
mutually rewarding sex. Of course, very often, the “Grass is Greener” adage holds true on these
occasions.
Dear reader, because I love you, I offer you this early gift for Valentine’s Day. Save your money. Be
creative. Sure, if you have the resources to buy that door knob sized diamond, or a four-wheeled,
500 horsepower, hyper-compensatory penis extension for your hot-lovin’ baby, go ahead. I should
remind you that you will be setting yourself up for having to out do yourself next year, however.
My daughter has a boyfriend who simply drew messages in the snow that recently buried us here in
Denver. He shot very artistic photographs of them, had them printed as 5x7”s, and gave them to
her, one per day, for a week. While I am her father, and thereby instinctively want to hang the boy
with his own intestines, I have to extend my hand, to shake his, on approval for his romantic
creativity. Well done, kid.
Now, if you hurt her, you punk…
I once had a girlfriend who replaced the little paper flags in one hundred Hershey’s Kisses with one
hundred typewritten reasons that she loved me. Pretty good, eh? It demonstrated romantic
creativity and that she spent some significant time on the project. I won’t forget it (though recalling
her name is more of a challenge).
Make it a gesture of love this Valentine’s Day. Celebrate each other. Go to dinner or, better yet,
make a big, multi-course meal to enjoy together at home. Take the time to eat it sensuously, and
appreciate its every flavor. Do the same with each other. Say, “I love you.” Say it a lot.
If you’re single, love yourself. When you’re done, stand back up and appreciate yourself and your
ability to love, and congratulate yourself on your strength in convictions to be selective about having
a significant other. You’re waiting for the right person and have all the scars from the attempts at
making it work with the wrong person. That’s impressive. Stand tall and salute the remains of Saint
Valentine who, single himself, respected the importance of love and was still a romantic person,
despite his solitude.
Yes, I suggested that you masturbate, you single, sexy beast.
In modern times, February typically carries a red thread, right down its middle, which is commercially
designed to remind us to celebrate our romantic relationships with some self-abusive monetary
investment. More often than not, the stress of this expectation is second only to the gift giving
expectations delivered by Santa Claus. Statistically, greeting cards support my arithmetic.
According to the Greeting Card Association, an estimated one billion Valentine cards are sent each
year, making Valentine's Day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year. (An estimated 2.6
billion cards are sent for Christmas.)
Yes, this annual proof-providing ritual is particularly tough for the penis owners.
As a creative, I am notoriously, uh… thrifty. You see, I have to be. Fortunately, there is balance in
that the right hemisphere of my mind is extremely active in compensation for the echoing emptiness
in the folds of my wallet. It’s the artist’s diet plan. Go ahead and try to make a living as an artist.
You’ll see what I mean. I do love to give gifts, however. I just love it. I can’t even keep it secret for
terribly long, and this is how I used to justify procrastinating preparedness for holiday exchanges.
In recent years, I have committed to giving gifts on my terms and not those set by Hallmark or
antiquated religious remnants. This practice relieves me of stressful deadlines, too many of which I
already face, and it relieves my beloved of feeling they need to reciprocate immediately. It’s unfair to
give the gift of stress, in my mind. Removing these anxieties from gift-giving seems to return and
restore the point of the gesture. It says, “I love you, I think about you, and I don’t need to set an
alarm to practice it.”
Ah, but Saint Valentine’s Day is unforgiving and often heartlessly cruel. I’d love to learn the stats for
how many arguments result from Valentine’s Day expectations. How many relationships develop
terminal cancer over this centuries old tradition?
Historically, one legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served Roman Catholics during the
third century. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single, and thereby less cautious, men made
more effective soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men.
Valentine, realizing the detriment to procreative cultural survival, and, of course, the romantic
injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform secret marriages for young lovers.
When Valentine's defiance was discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.
Ah, martyrdom pour l’amour. Beheading, these days, seems to be appropriate punishment for just
forgetting to observe the holiday, or for merely failing to make some financially masochistic gesture.
Considering this, have we really evolved out of the barbaric behaviors in our history as nasty,
hairless primates?
But the cruelty of Saint Valentine’s Day has not spared those of us who are on the menu as a la
carte. There is also the self-abuse that those of us cram into our own hearts as the single sect. The
terrible things we do to ourselves often make beheading look more like heavy petting. To be alone
on Valentine’s Day is like going hungry on Thanksgiving or going sober on Saint Pattie’s Day. I am
single. I know these things. I like whiskey, and while I am in no way Irish, you can bet I’ll have some
in March. I doubt I will be “getting any” in February, however. This might make me a little sad. I like
having someone in my life who makes me feel good about myself and who enthusiastically provides
mutually rewarding sex. Of course, very often, the “Grass is Greener” adage holds true on these
occasions.
Dear reader, because I love you, I offer you this early gift for Valentine’s Day. Save your money. Be
creative. Sure, if you have the resources to buy that door knob sized diamond, or a four-wheeled,
500 horsepower, hyper-compensatory penis extension for your hot-lovin’ baby, go ahead. I should
remind you that you will be setting yourself up for having to out do yourself next year, however.
My daughter has a boyfriend who simply drew messages in the snow that recently buried us here in
Denver. He shot very artistic photographs of them, had them printed as 5x7”s, and gave them to
her, one per day, for a week. While I am her father, and thereby instinctively want to hang the boy
with his own intestines, I have to extend my hand, to shake his, on approval for his romantic
creativity. Well done, kid.
Now, if you hurt her, you punk…
I once had a girlfriend who replaced the little paper flags in one hundred Hershey’s Kisses with one
hundred typewritten reasons that she loved me. Pretty good, eh? It demonstrated romantic
creativity and that she spent some significant time on the project. I won’t forget it (though recalling
her name is more of a challenge).
Make it a gesture of love this Valentine’s Day. Celebrate each other. Go to dinner or, better yet,
make a big, multi-course meal to enjoy together at home. Take the time to eat it sensuously, and
appreciate its every flavor. Do the same with each other. Say, “I love you.” Say it a lot.
If you’re single, love yourself. When you’re done, stand back up and appreciate yourself and your
ability to love, and congratulate yourself on your strength in convictions to be selective about having
a significant other. You’re waiting for the right person and have all the scars from the attempts at
making it work with the wrong person. That’s impressive. Stand tall and salute the remains of Saint
Valentine who, single himself, respected the importance of love and was still a romantic person,
despite his solitude.
Yes, I suggested that you masturbate, you single, sexy beast.
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