Last year on Saint Valentine’s Day, I tried especially hard to make the dayspecial for my girlfriend of the time. I ordered from Baskin Robbins an ice creamcake in the shape of a heart and I managed to attain an eighth
of superb marijuanato smoke before we ate the cake. I decided on these items instead of thetraditional gifts because I believe in going against tradition whenever possible. Aweek after Valentine’s Day was my 27
birthday, where further disaster struck inthe form of my beautiful ex
and her wonderful son. A month or so later,the relationship was over and now both of us are much happier (she is pregnantwith a boy
thank the sometimes merciful Gods that it is not mine; I wish thebest for her and I know she will be a wonderful mother!). Before last year, I hadignored Valentine’s
Day for so many years, I lost count. Even the years I hadgirlfriends, I refused to celebrate this holiday, not to buck tradition but for thefact that it disturbs me greatly.
There are many different legends of Valentine’s
Day but what is agreed isthat a
helped some Christians and for his effort, was clubbed andstoned. These forms of execution did not kill him so the executioners proceededto decapitated him outside the Flaminian Gate. In history, there are manydifferent
happened, as well as many different Saint
, but the common day was February 14th. It is irrelevant to me, as ishow romance became associated with Saint Valentine.
It is, of course, all abouthuman greed.
No matter the traditional history, the holiday, much like every otherholiday, has been corrupted and malformed from what it originally was. Love is nota material item so why do most people treat Love as if it could be bought and sold?This has confused me my whole life. It is a tragedy and even the Poets who oncewaxed so eloquently about Love would not be able to find the real meaning that isdrowned in ridiculous commercialism.
sure that some readers will accuse me of being the Ebenezer
Scroogeof Valentine’s Day, bah
humbugging all the Lovers in the World and snickering atthe Romantics who insist that Love is not dead. This is not true at all. I wish, as allrational and lonely men, that I had a woman who understood and loved meunconditionally, to hold in the cold hours of the early morning, and to teach me themeaning of my suffering but this is impossible right now because I am currently