Wait, so why don't you like Valentine's Day?

It’s very hard for me to write a specific Valentine’s Day post because the holiday is not one that I care about. People say that it’s a Christian holiday and it very well may be, but I don’t think that the religious affiliations have ever been much recognized nor brought up in church services. Not in mine anyway. On Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day, my family’s church gives flowers to mothers and “future mothers,” (har, har), you know, just because. Way to make us boys feel completely comfortable; not pressured at all. That being said, I think it’s extremely strange for people to not celebrate Valentine’s Day under the pretenses that it’s a Christian Holiday. I think we're adult enough to admit that we don't really celebrate Christian holidays (i.e. Christmas) because of the religious connotations. We just like the celebratory aspects (i.e. presents). Now, if you choose not to celebrate V-day because it’s too commercial or too gaudy for you, that’s one thing. But, if you would like to celebrate V-day and aren’t due to the aforementioned circumstances, might I suggest you chill out and live a little? I’m talking to you, OrthoJew.

I, for one, don’t mind buying a chick (read: the girlfriend) dinner if it equates to seeing her in red, lacy lingerie later. Simple economics, my friends. Simple economics. In OrthoJew’s husband’s defense, I wouldn’t wish her-in-lingerie upon anyone.

Speaking of the girlfriend. She’s conveniently PMS’ing today and we’ve been going back and forth over email about my degree of romantic-ness on the universal scale of these things. Evidently I’m quite low on the romantic totem pole. After listing my inadequacies, she apologizes and tells me she wants to make it up to me. Then she changes her mind and hates me for a different reason (something that she dug up from months ago just for the occasion), and then apologizes again. I told her to have a few shots of vodka before I pick her up tonight. Evidently this sentiment wasn’t an especially romantic one either.

In the grand scheme of things, however, I don’t have it so bad. The Publisher, on the other hand, he’s got it bad. His wife took liberty of ordering flowers for herself today. She made a huge scene when the monstrous bouquet of flowers arrived. She removed the little card and read it aloud. It was a mushy love letter that she had written to herself. The Publisher, only vaguely jealous if jealous at all, asked who they were from. “From me,” she said. “I knew I couldn’t count on you to get me any.”

I am currently bribing the Secretary to check his credit card receipts to see if any flowers were sent to Detroit.

Long live Valentine’s Day!