hate am not crazy about Valentine’s day. Except for the chocolate. It (the day, not the chocolate) serves only to emphatically remind me that I am single with no prospects. In a world of twosomes, a one-of is an anomaly, an outsider. “Oner” becomes a four-letter word on Valentine’s day. So I don’t go out on Valentine’s day. Instead, I wait until February 16th–my son’s birthday–to celebrate. (We have no president’s birthdays in Canada in February)
Once I was married, long ago and far away. The tragic irony is that I was in a cult at that time. We were not supposed to honor any day above another. Valentine’s day was officially ignored. The few times I could have enjoyed the day, my “valentine” was under no obligation to shower me with chocolate, flowers, or fine jewelry.
So, back to the 16th of February. Happy Birthday, Son. The chocolates should be arriving shortly. (In honor of your special day, I also bought flowers and gold earrings for myself.)