Art of the Odd

I have a confession to make. Valentine’s Day used to mean something to me.

In elementary school, I longed for Valentine’s cards from the boys I crushed on. And, of course, I got them – the same flimsy cardboard hearts, adorned with bad puns and cartoon bears, that every other girl in class got. There were rules, you see. If you brought Valentines, you had to bring one for everyone – and they all had to be the same.

Things changed when I started dating. Now Valentine’s Day brought gifts that were just for me. I might still have some of them, somewhere. Flowers and candies and strange plastic toys. I don’t remember that I was ever single on Valentine’s Day, but I also don’t remember any specific Valentine’s Day. It’s all a blur of red and white, and it’s all faded into the mists of time.

I got married (the first time), and while we always said “Oh, we don’t really do Valentine’s Day,” we did. There was always a special meal, at a restaurant we didn’t often go to, and there was always Valentine’s sex, because Valentine’s Day means you have to be in the mood.

Looking back, I realize that Valentine’s Day meant something special then because, no matter how I denied it, something was missing from Every Day that had to be wedged into this one heart-soaked Day in mid-February. That’s no longer the case. I know it’s cliche to say that “Every day is Valentine’s Day,” but if that means that every day, you say “I love you,” and that every day, you do something to show it – then it’s no cliche.

And so tonight, because we have no need to indulge in a Greeting Card Holiday to prove our love for each, NovySan and I are home, drinking cocktails (Pegu for me, a Perfect Manhattan for him), and getting ready to spend some quality time on UStream with our friends Be The Boy and The Slackmistress.

It was the Slackmistress’s recent post on Pointless Banter, concerning Crap Women Don’t Want for Valentine’s Day, that provided the original impetus for my Valentine’s Post. When she described a Valentine’s Day card display as looking “like they split Cupid open and shook his red heart-shaped entrails all over the place,” I thought, “What if we celebrated Valentine’s Day really authentically, as the feast of a martyred saint?” Which led me to a meditation on the reason for the season, as they say.

According to the always-infallible Wikipedia, there are three saints commonly identified as the Saint Valentine after whom the holiday is named. Catholic Online, though, while acknowledging that there is some controversy over the number of St. Valentines, and their exact occupations, focuses on one – a Roman priest, who, according to the Nuremberg Chronicle, was stoned, beaten and finally beheaded for the crime of performing Christian marriages and attempting to convert Claudius II (also known as Claudius Gothicus, which leads me to a wonderful mental image of Derek Jacobi in heavy eyeliner and latex club wear).

So, if you aren’t spending time with your sweetheart tonight, or if you can’t come and join us for Be the Marriage LIVE! (On Ice), you might consider martyring someone. Or, in fact, massacring several someones, if that’s more your speed. Just don’t tell the cops I sent you.