Valentine’s Day, V-Day, Día del Amor y Amistad, and Singles Awareness Day (SAD).
The list of names for February 14 is probably far shorter than the sentiments and attitudes toward the day that celebrates — or stuffs down our throats? — love, more specifically romantic love.
In college I took a firm stance against Valentine’s, calling it SAD and sporting a “Love is Overrated” T. The older I get, the more ambivalent I am. Some cynics blame the card, candy, and jewelry companies with their onslaught of ads for the day getting any recognition. Others attack its foundation: Why should you wait for a special occasion to express your feelings of love?
On the more optimistic side, romantics love an excuse for a day devoted to love (this lot can also include the fair-weather followers who flip to cynic under less favorable circumstances). Some use V-Day as a personal D-Day — a call to action in jumpstarting their romantic lives. Or performing a post-mortem on said affairs.
Regardless, I’m more certain than ever that some sort of subliminal sugar-craving hormone kicks into high gear on February 14, which would explain my embarrassing noshing this evening. As a chronically single gal, it’s possible that I was eating my feelings. But rather than perform an analysis on my lack of love life, I’ll chalk the binge up to Valentine preparatory failure. Aside from baking cookies, I neglected to follow through with my Martha Stewart-esque celebration and decoration for V-Day.