Who knows what Valentine's Day commemorates? Although its origins are somewhat cloudy, it seems that it was a pagan fertility day (actually on February 15) that the Pope assimilated for Christians and named for the saint who was martyred on February 14. It apparently became more romantic when Geoffrey Chaucer wrote a 1382 poem on that day to celebrate the anniversary of the engagement of England's King Richard II to Anne of Bohemia, both fourteen years old. That's not something that I feel inclined to toast (call me cranky). Anyway, the actual date of their engagement was May 2. The holiday signifies very little indeed. For singles it is a gaudy reminder of their solitary status with hearts and cupids as far as the eye can see.
Even when I was happily coupled the holiday always paled in comparison to events that did signify something. My sentimental feelings are generated by events and milestones that have some significance in my life, not something manufactured by the deeply-romantic, advertisement-driven media. (Yes, that's an oxymoron.) In a free society, we get to choose what events are meaningful for us; we do not have to think or feel the way that others dictate. The holiday was once very low-key, usually involving a hand-written card and perhaps a small box of sweets. Now a pricey present and a romantic meal are often expected. (Of course, this is not the only holiday that has become commercialized beyond recognition.)
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