I have a feeling I’m going to be in the minority here when I say that I love Valentine’s Day.
I suppose I don’t understand why “it’s contrived” just because it’s designed to allow you to show your affection. Note that I said allow not force. Valentine’s Day is a day to celebrate love, not fabricate it. No one ever said it had to be fake. And I don’t care if you have a hunny-bunny-boo-boo-bear on Valentine’s Day or not; you love somebody. Show it! Goodness! It’s a perfect frickin’ excuse to shower everyone you care about with love and affection without looking/feeling like an idiot—though this is a non-issue for me. I love people flamboyantly. You’d think the people who need the most help in this department would enjoy the holiday more.
Okay, okay, I know I sound cranky. And I’m not. But sometimes it seems to me like people are Valentine’s Day grinches in the name of being grinches—not because they “don’t believe in what it stands for.” Because really, what kind of person do you have to be to not believe in love?
“It doesn’t stand for love. It’s a Hallmark holiday that stands for nothing.”
And to me, Christmas doesn’t stand for the birth of Christ, either. It’s about family, love, giving. I’m a firm believer that things are what you make of them.
“But it’s so commercialized.”
Well thank god. How else would I find a four-foot-tall teddy bear holding a rose and a giant box of chocolates, tied to a balloon that says, “I LOVE YOU!” in all caps?
“Well, I don’t need all that.”
Neither do I, but it’s FUN.
“No it’s not.”
Yes, yes it is. Much like giving/receiving gifts on Christmas, the point of Valentine’s Day isn’t about whether you or anyone else needs them (because chances are, you don’t). It’s the reaction from the other person. It’s making the other person feel like a million bucks. It’s when they open that card and read that horribly-written greeting card love poem and their face lights up (or when that teddy bear I mentioned arrives at their place of employment and they turn fifty shades of red amidst the whistles and catcalls of their coworkers). It’s a gesture. It means something. And it’s the only day of the year on which it’s socially acceptable to make crazy-ass gestures of love, so make one! I’m sure when whoever is on the receiving end of it gets a dozen roses, a pound of their favorite flavor jelly beans, and the latest season of their TV show obsession on Blu-Ray s/he’s not gonna be all like, “Oh, well, this is nice but since you gave it to me on Valentine’s Day, it’s fake, contrived, and doesn’t mean SHIT.”
Okay, I sound cranky again. And I’m not! (Maybe a little.) Just don’t be a grinch, okay?
As I’m sure you can guess, I enjoy writing about love. Forbidden love is my favorite. Nothing like adding the heart-pounding, brain-skewing, skin-tingling effects of love to “This is so wrong.” But really, the thing I love about forbidden love is a little cliche, but something I believe in—the idea that love conquers all, transcends rules, social responsibilities, and expectations, and is a magical whirlwind of passion and emotion that pays no heed to anything else.
I could go on about this forever and this post is already too long, so I’m gonna end it here. BUT, I am going to post a kissing scene for Cupid’s Blind Speed Dating on Monday, which sorta goes hand-in-hand with what we’re talking about, so drop by! 🙂
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