This week contains both a Friday the 13th and Valentine’s Day. Somehow that seems appropriate to me, given the apparently culturally mandated freakout that is Valentine’s Day. Either you’re supposed to be single and hate all the happily paired off people around you, or you’re supposed to be using this trumped up holiday to grovel to your man (female version) or bribe your woman with fancy food and flowers in exchange for sex (male version).
As you’ve probably guessed by now, I’m a Valentine’s Day cynic, so much so that I basically used to forget about the holiday altogether until the actual day arrived and I saw people carrying flowers on the bus or whatever. Which is how I managed to accidentally meet Mr Machine *on* Valentine’s Day — we had exchanged messages online and I suggested that if he wanted to meet in person, I’d be grading papers at a certain coffeeshop on a particular afternoon, and he could drop by. Not a date so much as a “let’s talk to each other in person before getting too excited” situation — but he did drop by, and we did meet, and it did happen to be Valentine’s Day, dammit, and here we are six years later. So since then, I’ve been compelled to celebrate Valentine’s Day against my will, except I call it “our anniversary” instead. Yay for us.
What do you do for Valentine’s Day, if anything? How do you feel about it as a holiday — is it a crock, or a nice occasion for romance? More importantly, has anything spooky happened to you today? Anything spookily romantic?
(And for anyone who’s feeling lonely this weekend, I humble recommend rereading this post of Kate’s.)