valentine's eve
I'm not fond of Valentine's Day.

Which is near-weird, I guess. Any excuse for joy celebration should be accepted, if not encouraged. So if people want to swap gifts and sing songs about "baby oooh baby" and fall in love and whatnot, then yay and stuff. May you be blessed by the attention of the winged-giggling arrow-loony child-thing.

My problem with this holiday stems from the approval aspect. Guy must show that he is both a decent human being and totally in love by spending money. Girl must gloat prettily and wear the damn lingerie. There must be candlelight, and roses, and sex must be had by all. Those who comply are acceptable. Those who attempt are dear. Those who do neither are inexplicable. Participate and be loved!

There are alternatives, of course. My sister attaches foil-wrapped chocolate hearts from the bulk store to notes on squares of brown paper and gives them to everyone. I've done the girl's night out thing, though that really isn't an option this year. I never did make it to the Bitter Ball at the UofC, though I hear there are equivalents all over the place. I could go buy myself some books or something, but I already did that this week. Note to self - do not walk into the Bookshelf after a bad day

This year, I got a valentine from my work - a chocolate heart on a stick with a tag that reads "We've put our hearts into Client's Consent - Your Privacy Committee." I find this vaguely creepy and condescending, possibly since the words "To my Valentine" are imprinted on the candy. Come on, now. I don't want a love note from my job, I want something for my bank account and a reference for future resumes. If it was a better job, I'd be writing it love letters instead of a list of hints that it might be time to quit. #7 is "You are making a skirt out of post-its despite the fact that yellow isn't your colour."

As a kid, I found all the fun of Valentine's to be in the making of said valentines. Red and pink paper, freakish doilies, glue everywhere, and fun with scissors. Also, candy. I got really good at making candy from each holiday last until the next one. Halloween til Christmas til Valentine's til Easter. And by the time that ran out, hey, it was summer. The chocolate and cinnahearts were a necessary part of my sugar calendar.

But now? I don't like the popular holiday nearly as much. Because it isn't about glee, it's about the stuff. And the having of a significant other. And I'm not really into either. While I enjoy small doses of theobroma, I'm not a kid anymore, and I can buy my own (decent) chocolate instead of waiting for the next holiday to swing by. I prefer live plants in pots to those in vases. Lace is itchy. The only jewelry I really wear is a necklace I got from my aunt when I was twelve. And I don't believe I've ever been unsingle on V-day.

Unsingle! Yes! That's the thing. While a guy would be, well, handy, it's not a necessary. (Really, really handy. There's a better word for this, I'm sure, as I'm not talking about skills with a toolbox. I can change my own lightbulbs and kill spiders and everything. But still. Handy.) I like being a complete person on my own. Being "with" isn't on my to-do list.

Despite being bombarded by all the holiday stuff, I intend to spend most of tomorrow alone. I'm going to watch some movies I borrowed from the library. I'm going to write assorted fragments of fiction and finish some letters I've been meaning to send out. I'm going to make really good soup for lunch since I have the day off. I'm going to go for a walk if that freezing rain can hold off a little longer. And I'm going to make myself a chocolate martini, because I gave the heart-on-a-stick to my little sister.

(this entry prompted by a post on mediagirl)