The Real Gothic Horror

I hate Valentine's Day.

Well, hate might be too strong a word. I just find it overwhelmingly pointless and more than a little annoying. And not just because I've been married for a good number of years. But because, in so many ways, it seems fruitless and completely made up to sell red hearts and white teddy bears, along with a plethora of greeting cards.

Really, the Hallmark people have decreed that this one day out of the entire year is the day to declare your love for your significant other. One day. Seems like you're getting off easy, doesn't it?

Oh, but if you do it wrong on this one day, you can pay for it for the next 364. And that's what truly turns this 'holiday' into a 'horror-day'.

And why? Because you bought flowers instead of chocolates? Proffered candies instead of posies? Bought both and were accused of just going the easy route? Bought nothing and were accused of forgetfulness and heartlessness both? Bought a flowery card and were told it 'wasn't you'? Bought a funny card and were told that it's not a day for humor? Made the wrong dinner or the wrong dinner reservations? Made the right reservations but had to wait which somehow becomes your fault? The list goes on and on.

Of course, the downside is that even if you do everything right for Valentine's Day...it's just one day. Out of an entire year. Meaning that the glow of success isn't going to last nearly as long as the bills accrued in creating that success.

Me, I've given up and declared it just another day. Thankfully, my spouse agrees. But, we are going out.

We're going to a hockey game, where we'll both drink beer and scream "Fight! Fight!" at any given opportunity. I truly married well. (And I really hope my spouse reads this, too. Because, dear? We're sticking with the plan, so don't expect breakfast in bed unless the cat brings it to us.)

Yours,
J.G. Chase