I’m all for couples celebrating their love on Valentine’s Day. Dine, enjoy your ro$e$, and eat chocolate to your heart’s content. But every year my heart feels sad when I think about the flip-side of this day.
Despite determination not to, hopes often run unreasonably high. Hopes of adolescence, young adulthood, the unattached, unhappily attached, or completely detached — hopes for an unexpected surprise, no matter how remote the odds. Even for couples who have agreed in advance to ignore the day and its overpriced commerce, the anticipation is often there.
The thing that bothers me most about such an over-hyped day is this: in a country that embraces inclusion from sea to shining sea, Valentine’s Day is highly exclusive.
The smallest children have it right. Everyone gets a card. Everyone gets to be someone’s Valentine. And there are enough homemade, heart-decorated cupcakes to go around.
I wonder if, in a twist on former President Bush’s education act, No Child Left Behind, our goal could be, “No heart left behind”.
Who can you encourage by asking, “Will you be my Valentine?” and then celebrating the day with that friend. The bottom line is this: with whomever and however you choose to celebrate, do it your own way. No card required.
Speaking of cards, I saw this one recently:
“Where I come from, we have a name for men who don’t get romantic on Valentine’s Day.”
Funny? Maybe. But we’ve got a long way to go, Baby.