So, I've been married for five years, and yet somehow I still have this gut anti-Valentine's reaction. Part of it is the Hallmark-made-up commercialism of it all--and my anger that dark chocolate ads really do make me lust after them. But the majority of it is that my residual self-image is of myself as the one person in the office, dorm, or classroom without a vase of flowers, box of chocolates, or those ridiculous balloon bouquets they get away with selling in high school by claiming it's a fundraiser for the cheerleading team. As if the cheerleaders are deceiving anyone that they're not actually trying to find another way to rub in high school's innate, miserable caste system.
Now, I do happen to be all gussied up in red today, but considering that I don't get to see my beloved best friend until 11pm tonight shortly before we roll into bed, it's not my tribute to a day of storied romantic bliss. It's really just an excuse to wear red and my nifty knee-high boots. Because it's always a good excuse to wear nifty knee-high boots.