From illegally performed marriage ceremonies to mob-related
massacres, Valentine’s Day has a strange and colorful history. It is often a day that is fraught with
both angst and hope. Even with all
of the commercial build-up to February 14th, all I can say is, thank
goodness it is only one day out of the year.
Some people refer to Valentine’s Day as “Singleness
Awareness Day”. They view it as a
made-up holiday that focuses entirely too much on love. Love may certainly be all around us
(i.e. friends, family, self, etc.), and yet the day gets a bad rap for
stressing the importance of couple hood and being in love.
My own memories of Valentine’s Day revolve around clutching
a handmade Valentine of construction paper and doilies as I walk nervously
through the classroom to deposit it secretly on the desk of my crush, my heart
thudding a tattoo of his name. Not
one to settle down too young, there was a different one each year: I love you, Brian. David. Billy…and
yet, looking back, they probably didn’t love me. God knows I never got a Valentine from any of them.
Ironically, my daughter has yet to experience the anxiety of
the Valentine exchange. Because
she is currently enrolled in a year-round track school, she has always been on
vacation for Valentine’s Day.
Although she has claimed one of the boys in her class as her future
husband, she has yet to make this a public declaration in such an, um, creative way. I am
hoping that this will not cause her to later profess this love in an
ill-written poem in her high school English class (á la Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed), lest her memories of the
“holiday” become tainted.
Yet, as always, it is our perceptions that make something
what it is. For some, Singleness
Awareness stretches throughout the entire month or even year, merely reaching
its pinnacle on Valentine’s Day. I once saw a Valentine’s Day ad in a newspaper
that said, “Here’s hoping your VD is a non-irritating one.” I have also attended anti-Valentine’s
parties (some of which involved burning valentines, pictures and
effigies)—hell, I even had my heart broken at one when the object of my
affection was seen kissing another woman.
Somehow, through it all I still have this notion that it is only the
emphasis that we place on the day that makes it awful. I have had my heart obliterated,
trampled and decimated and yet, I still believe in love. I just don’t think there is only one day
to share the love…or to feel its absence.
In truth, February in general has historically been an emotionally
charged month for me for many reasons.
After only just surviving the holidays, here comes a month filled with
various dates of alleged personal importance. A few key dates to note:
February 5: A
few years ago, this was the date of my wedding anniversary. Although, it hasn’t been celebrated in
quite some time, it is still with wistful fondness (and decided disappointment)
that I recall the date. I am happy
to report, however, that this year it instead marks the anniversary of getting
my first tattoo.
February 13: It
was on this day (ahem) 39 years ago that the angels joyfully chorused. The sun shone brighter. People were kinder. Oh yeah, and I was born.
While I don’t fully dread getting older, this day is
bittersweet due to its proximity to Valentine’s Day. With my birthday there is the same melancholy that
occasionally clouds the joy of Christmas:
The idea that I may not have any presents to open unless I purchase them
myself. I do not feel that I want
for much, so, no, this is not a plea for people to buy me presents! It is simply an observation that tokens
of affection and/or a tangible celebration of my birth may hinge more on my own
doing than on the kindness of others.
I think we all have a desire to know that we matter to others, that the
day of our birth is important…don’t we?
(On a side note, I also share my birthday with Peter Tork of
the Monkees and Peter Gabriel.
Don’t even ask me why I find that interesting.)
The remainder of February includes the birthdays of some of
my favorite people. Those of past
friends, my first love, a few of my relatives (even a couple of presidents!)…Whether
they benefit from the melee of Valentine’s Day, or are slighted because of
their birthdays’ proximity, is unclear.
I only know that once V-Day is over, however, that the month seems much
less stressful.
Well, until next year.
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