Ok, it's V-day. Again. Hallmark, Corbel, DeBeers and every restaurant with white linen table cloths hopes you have appropriately freaked out about it. They all hope that if you're unpartnered this year, you'll have a partner and freak out next year. If you just started dating someone, your're hoping the gift isn't too much or too little. If you're thinking of breaking up with someone, you're waiting, because today is not the day, or you did it Sunday or yesterday, just out of fear of the totally trumped up significance of today. If you're single and buy into all this crap, you're feeling blue and wrong for being unpartnered in America.
The whole thing is totally neurotic.
To my partnered friends of a monogamous bent: kiss each other for a very long time. Save on the Vday accessories.
To my partnered friends of a non-monogamous bent: kiss anybody who's interested in getting kissed.
To my unpartnered friends: kiss (or hug) someone who looks blue today.
It's good karma.
Then, everybody, go see The Vagina Monologues (it's tradition now) and give some money to a women's shelter or an abuser re-education program or rape crisis hotline or a group trying to stop human trafficking or to rehabilitate child soldiers or someone who really needs some love.
Like give what you would have spent or did spend on roses/cards/jewlery/toys.
And since St. Val was a marriage activist under the regime of Emperor Claudius, who outlawed marriage completely in order to get more men into his army to bring the money into the empire, if you're not allowed to get married because you're sexuality doesn't fit into unnaturally narrow strictures, do it anyway. Just don't get yourselves killed in the bargain! This holiday already has a name.
Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you.
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Dittos all around. If I say more, I'll only be kvetching, but I will say that charades suck the gusts from a hurricane when you don't consent.
-- Shane
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