the daily snivel

Perhaps it's true that those who fear and loathe Valentine's Day the most are the single, forgotten ones like me, but this doesn't make my disdain any less fervent. It's that magical day of the year when the vast machinery of corporate mammon and social expectations trembles at the redline in celebrating the sweet nothings and contrived platitudes of this thing you humans call "wuv." There's no more poignant reminder of solitude or dissatisfaction to be found. Heck, even those in relationships are under pressure to live up to expectations and wow 'em with a big routine proving their love for another year.

And it's at this point on St. Valentine's Day that I normally self-medicate with chocolate and all would be well.

Now, don't you fret none, I'm just a little tired and grouchy this year. Normally, of course, I express my feelings for my near and dear friends with the distribution of valentines and chocolate, just like we did in grade school, but I don't have the time or money this year. I adore the old punch-out valentines from childhood, that have terrible puns (like on the Simpsons: "I choo-choo-choose you") and syrupy illustrations, and in fact my dear friend Natalie just sent me a package of vintage cards she found somewhere, including the silly and sweet ones above ("Let-tuce be valentines," and there's a picture of a head of lettuce with come-hither eyes) as well as some great vintage cards from 1984 with Return of the Jedi characters, including one with Darth Vader and two Imperial Guards with the festive "Have a happy Valentine's Day... Or Else."

What one must always remember is that it's the other 364 days of the year that are truly important to demonstrating one's affection for another person, and if you can manage to do that, there's no reason to put on a production for February 14 at all (except insofar as it's one of those days you remember to make the people you love feel important to you). Most of the people I know, in relationships and out of them, live by this principle and it seems to create a lot more happiness than going all out just because it's the time of year that you're supposed to do such things. Tonight after finishing my work and hitting the gym, I'm going to have a quiet evening at home with a good friend and a good cat, and feel lucky to have the friends and memories I do.

But I must confess, an awful lot of my friends are settling down, pairing up, and getting married these days. I ran into a friend from high school last week and she updated me on who (in the 10 intervening years) has gotten married, who has kids now, and who is engaged. My pal Jason, now living in Toronto, is getting married this summer, and my best friend Mike is getting married in August as well. Most of my friends are in relationships, and you start feeling a bit left out. And, well, lonely. And at the same time, I'm not really in a position to meet new people. I'm still getting into shape at the gym, I practically live at the legal clinic, and I'm moving to Toronto in the summer anyway. Even if anybody wanted to go out with me (and that's a doubtful situation given the, cough, fantastic response I've found in my periodic dalliances through on-line dating sites), I have neither time nor the ability to offer much past August, when I move away for at least a year.

But, oh, when you're alone at night, even a tiny twin bed feels awfully empty.

So, where's this rambly tale of woe and vitriol going? I'm not sure. But here's my prescription: if you love someone, let them know. Not just tonight, but continually. Chocolate, flowers, back rubs, and smooching are bitter things indeed on Valentine's Day if you don't give them and get them throughout the year.