I've always thought that Valentines Day, like every holiday marked by a commemorative Hallmark card, is just an exploitation of society's overly consumerist nature. Signs everywhere command you to buy scented candles, and chocolates, and bracelets with a certificate of authenticity from Avon, and you don't dare disobey, lest you and your partner should end up in couples therapy, (and noticeably lacking any before mentioned scented candles to throw at each other.)
With the divorce rate so high, you'd think that people would want to save their money, but it seems that Valentines Day has become almost a Mecca for couples, a journey in a relationship which must be taken in order to prove its validity.
Personally, I find it all a bit nauseating. I'd like to think I'm doing my bit for anyone who might find themselves single at such time by knocking over with disdain, perfectly aligned rows of red teddy bears, and swiping at low hanging posters emblazoned with: 'share the love.' Technically, people end up sharing a lot more than love thanks to the day best represented by Cupid. There's delayed surprises such as exorbitant credit card debt, excessive calories and guilt, (generally experienced by men), if you either forget it, or remember too late. Though how you can forget when every shop has a section set aside for this heinous holiday is beyond me.
It's also the one time of year when people's brain chemistry becomes dramatically altered, and things they might have thought were tacky and corny on February 13th suddenly become romantic and kitsch on February 14th. Then, on February 15th, all the ill fated flowers and stuffed animals with high pitched pre-recorded messages end up in the figurative rubbish bin, and we remember, in a rare moment of lucidity that a $2.95 card doesn't necessarily prove undying love and affection. All I can say is, love is in the air? More like, I am in despair.
