Engaged and enraged

Once a year the country—well at least department stores and grocery chains—explodes with reds and pinks and pictures of flying, arrow-wielding cherubs.

For some,thr living expression of commercial love incites panic and fear.

For men, it means the obligatory gift of flowers and candy that just isn't quite satisfactory to their loved one. For single people, it can sometimes be a day of sadness, or at least a day of mocking those who make their displays of affection a little too public. And for women, it is a time of anticipation and often disappointment when her other half presents her with the last stuffed animal on the drug-store shelf that he purchased at midnight Feb. 13.

But for me, the festooned aisles of my favorite shopping center incite not a feeling of anxiety, but of nostalgia.

Valentine’s Day, even those years I was not “attached,” was always a memorable occasion. It was especially exciting in elementary school when the world seemed to stop for that moment after recess when Mrs. Palmer brought her famous pink-frosted cupcakes.

After finishing construction on our shoebox mailboxes, we would take turns placing folded Valentine’s cards in each other’s Elmer’s glued creations.

There was always that moment of excitement at the end of the party when I emptied the contents of my box onto my desk, searching for the one card: The card that contained a special message from the boy I liked that professed his love for me.

But most of the time it was a Valentine picturing a glacier-surfing penguin with the words “You’re Cool” typed in block letters. The particular boy’s unintelligible signature would be scribbled on the back of the card with no indication that I was more special than the next pig-tailed girl.

But for that moment, I was living my own romantic dream, and someday I and [insert boy's name here] would be married.

Even though I’ve since found real love that will last beyond a Valentine’s card, I still have the urge every Feb 14, to build a construction paper mailbox and eat a pink-frosted cupcake.

Jared:

 To me, Valentine’s Day is nothing more than a chance to get into trouble. If I were to buy my lady friend flowers or candy or a life-sized stuffed animal on any of the other 365 days (or 366 this year), I would be rolling in brownie points. To other girls, I would be a sweet, romantic guy. To other guys, I would be the source of a wave of “why don’t you ever ...”

Understand, though, that is simply not the case on this day. Instead, my gesture, while still appreciated, is met with a certain level of expectation. If I were to forget, however, I would probably never live it down. Eighty-three years from now, my great grandchildren would recall how I messed up on Valentine’s Day 2008.

I believe this holiday was probably established by a businessman who went back in time. It was probably that chalky-heart guy. He realized that he wasn’t selling any candy, so he invented the time machine, went back centuries ago and established this day so that he could sell his sub-par, message ridden candy to hopeless lovers.

This day seems to have become less about love and more about commercialism. While watching TV the other day, I was surprised to see a Verizon Mobile commercial enticing me to show her I loved her by buying her their newest, sleekest phone. A phone? Really? “Honey, I want you to know how much I love you, so I got you a phone.”

Several aisles are dedicated to this holiday in your local store. You have to have your cards, your candy, your flowers, your stuffed animals, your decorations and anything else that is pink. As a guy, I have been conditioned to avoid pink. When I was growing up, I learned that pink aisles are bad. The girl-toy aisle is filled with pink. No Hot Wheels here. Other aisles are pink, too … but I won’t talk about them. This is the aisle of which we do not speak. I say all this to ask the question—why does Valentine’s Day have to be pink? It’s not bad enough that everything is expensive, but it has to be pink.

Girls often taunt us guys with the promise of “Oh you don’t have to buy me anything.” This really translates into “Oh, you don’t have to buy me anything … if you never want me to speak to you again.” Why don’t girls just come out and tell us? It would really make the world a better place. I know the principle is for us to show how much we care, but Valentine’s Day is  more of a competition between couples.

The moral of this story is don’t forget. Whatever you do, guys, buy her something. If there isn’t a “her” in your life, this is a good chance to show a prospect you’re interested. Whatever the case, get your wallets ready, gentlemen. It’s Valentine’s Day.