Over here in Holy Land Central (HLC) Valentine’s Day is scarce. Surprise surprise considering the holiday’s Christian/Roman roots. Up in Jerusalem, perhaps all the Christian Quarter priests are gathered this evening over candlelight passing out cards and “be sweet” candy hearts.
But in my realm, aside from red and pink heart appliques pasted to the neighborhood pub windows (whose young hip staff and clientele always rouses for a party) and a Valentine e-mail sent ’round by my pal Steve (from England) and a well-wish from our yoga teacher (from San Francisco), it’s been nada bascada on the holiday.
And you know what? I’m happy. Call me sour puss, eternal Grinch, killjoy, deadbeat.. whatever but Valentine’s Day was just one of those holidays I really, really didn’t go in for living back in the U.S. of A. Because in that idealistic “burn your bra” sorta way I always maintained that if you really love someone, you show it year ’round. Not just on the 14th.
I know. Take a number. Not original. But still..
If nothing else I’m glad to be free of the commercial pressure surrounding V.D. This is one holiday where the less romantic person in a partnership – be it in a hetero or same-sex coupling – is doomed from the start. Because this is the holiday of Expectations. Chocolate truffles? Romantic dinner over candelight at home? Reservations at an exclusive hot spot? Bouquet delivered to the office? Hallmark card? Negligee? Calvin Kleins? All of the above? Of course, actually discussing wants and needs with a partner always helps, but that would render the fun & drama of a heated public argument over the roasted squash soup course null and void. And then what?
To all of you out there celebrating: Enjoy and don’t take it too seriously. It’s REALLY about chasing away winter blah’s. So chase, chase, chase mein kinder; Imbibe the bubbly and save your money for a trip to Ibiza or Provence.