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I like to think of myself as a bit of a romantic, but it kinda irks to have romance thrust upon me one day a year. It was even worse when I was the fat & ugly kid at school that my classmates shunned – that is, when they weren’t busy finding new and painful ways to humiliate me. Not getting any valentines from said classmates was just one of those ways. But fuck ’em, you know? It was really the teachers who were to blame, setting all us misfits up like that. But it still hurt.
I reckon it’s also how a lot of single and lonely people feel on February 14th – set up by the media and commercial hype of what Romance should look and feel like. None of this bothers me anymore because at this point in my life I’ve experienced enough amazingly romantic moments that I don’t feel like I’ve missed out. And since I am now a more-than-somewhat-chubby woman in my mid-50’s living between PET scans I doubt I am anyone’s idea of a catch. But I digress…
This morning I got a call from a hotel telling me that one of their guests was interested in a tapas tour. So I got in touch and, after sending info and doing a bit of organising, I met Tim and Ellen two hours later for a lunchtime tapas tour. And it turned out that they were on their honeymoon! And so there I was, suddenly spending Valentine’s Day with two young people on their honeymoon holiday… and it was great! Because I really am a romantic and it was lovely being with a couple who were clearly in love and happy together. Kinda filled me up.
Do you celebrate Valentine’s Day?
casa azahar 
Celebrate? Not so much.
A chance to exchange cards (I refuse to pay extortionate amounts for flowers just for the sake of it), and say again that we love each other, yes.
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In our family Feb 14th is my mum’s dog’s birthday so we all go round and fuss him and give him toys.
Other than that I’m happily single – been there, done that, have very many happy memories (but no T-shirt). And I’ll be on Saturday by family & friends as it’s my birthday.
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Just throwing the missing “thoroughly spoilt” into that last sentence. My typing fingers seem to be malfunctioning today!
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I try to stay away from the public rituals, if only because they’re too crowded, but there are always small exchanges of sentimental gifts. Last night I gave the Engineer an obsessive’s cutting board marked out with inches and centimeters and a grid and exact angles for julienning, and he brought six fancy chocolates (Earl Grey, passion fruit and the like) which we shared.
I remember those horrible schoolday Valentine exchanges. The person who first cooked up the idea of packaging cheap tacky Valentine cards in packs of 30 (projecting that, I guess, as the typical class size), as if anyone could possibly manage to even like everyone in the fourth grade class (to say nothing of the gratuitous exclusion of people who aren’t POPYOULAIR), ought to be shot. I think they still sell them, too. It’s disgusting. If I were teacher, I would forbid them in my class.
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