Better Than Lupercalia

Another year, another Valentine's Day. I humor myself (as I am suffering over what to send to this person or that) thinking that at least this isn't the most invented, just-for-Hallmark holiday. Mother's Day isn't quite 150 years old. Father's Day may not even be 100 years old. And not even the grandparents take Grandparents Day seriously. And really, how can you hate something that provides an excuse for otherwise dull people to let loose more chocolate, more lingerie, more edible body paint, and more sex toys into their dreary winter world? Besides, we need something that's guaranteed to make all of those middle school kids miserable.

If you haven't received a personal piece of junk email from me today wishing you well, then you can see the same message here: Happy Valentine's Day!

Or forget the silly holiday and just focus on spring and renewal. You know, fucking 'til it thaws stuff. As for love and desire? Those could just be chemistry. Or knowing the right place to touch. Or maybe just a pressing need to forget about your To Do list for a few minutes.

Personally, today (as the snow is piling up outside my window) I prefer to see Valentine's Day as a diversion. I'm hoping for a card or two, some email, and the promise that this weekend I'll have a night with a certain someone that includes champagne, chocolate, and some red bondage tape. Hope your day holds promise as well!

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