Clogging Up Your Drain Pipe of Love
On Valentine's Day
The philharmonic will play
But the songs that we sing
Will be sad...
"Nothing good ever happens on Valentine's Day." I was apprised of this fact on what was technically Friday morning but could have been Thursday night, depending on whom you ask (the debate rages on, but for my money the best solution is the one thought up by the public transit schedules that list their timetables for "the night of Friday/Saturday". End tangent). Anyway, "nothing good ever happens on Valentine's Day" says Ace Reporter, Meredith Snyder. Her definition of "nothing good" had nothing to do with the day's theme of institutionalized romance, but it got me thinking, and looking back, I'd have to agree. It's one of those days, along with Christmas and Thanksgiving that fall in the "impossible expectations" category. It is strongly impressed upon us that to be normal — to be functional human beings capable of love and affection, we have to get these three days just exactly perfect. We get cowed by the Big Eastern Syndicate into believing this triumvirate of terrifying holidays is somehow a measure of our dedication to the people we care about. Had a shitty Christmas? You must be incapable of love! What do you mean you didn't really do anything for Valentine's Day? Don't you two love each other? Maybe I'm oversensitive to this, being my father's child, which has meant after watching him fret for years about Christmas and Thanksgiving &c. being just-so, that some of it has rubbed off on me (or, god help me, is genetic), and I do have a certain conception of how these things should be. Now, I, in my decidedly Freudian way, hold myself to be much less susceptible to the kind of lachrymose treacle that informs my father's perceptions of these things. But I've always been kind of a sucker for Valentine's Day. Yes, much to the chagrin of the poor, embarrassed Ladies I Have Dated, I am all about big showy displays of affection. Not really in public, but just for the benefit of my beloved. I got this heart full of love, and I just have to express that with material goods!... Material goods and kisses! This year, alas, a series of extenuating circumstances made my usual tour-de-force impractical. Sure I'm a little bummed about not getting to celebrate this fantastic and exhilarating relationship in my accustomed fashion, but you know, there are worse things. And at least that proves I'm not a slave to the "impossible expectations" of the November through February Holiday Hell-Gauntlet. Right?
...Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day
That's all I really wanted to say...
-with apologies to Paul Simon
The philharmonic will play
But the songs that we sing
Will be sad...
"Nothing good ever happens on Valentine's Day." I was apprised of this fact on what was technically Friday morning but could have been Thursday night, depending on whom you ask (the debate rages on, but for my money the best solution is the one thought up by the public transit schedules that list their timetables for "the night of Friday/Saturday". End tangent). Anyway, "nothing good ever happens on Valentine's Day" says Ace Reporter, Meredith Snyder. Her definition of "nothing good" had nothing to do with the day's theme of institutionalized romance, but it got me thinking, and looking back, I'd have to agree. It's one of those days, along with Christmas and Thanksgiving that fall in the "impossible expectations" category. It is strongly impressed upon us that to be normal — to be functional human beings capable of love and affection, we have to get these three days just exactly perfect. We get cowed by the Big Eastern Syndicate into believing this triumvirate of terrifying holidays is somehow a measure of our dedication to the people we care about. Had a shitty Christmas? You must be incapable of love! What do you mean you didn't really do anything for Valentine's Day? Don't you two love each other? Maybe I'm oversensitive to this, being my father's child, which has meant after watching him fret for years about Christmas and Thanksgiving &c. being just-so, that some of it has rubbed off on me (or, god help me, is genetic), and I do have a certain conception of how these things should be. Now, I, in my decidedly Freudian way, hold myself to be much less susceptible to the kind of lachrymose treacle that informs my father's perceptions of these things. But I've always been kind of a sucker for Valentine's Day. Yes, much to the chagrin of the poor, embarrassed Ladies I Have Dated, I am all about big showy displays of affection. Not really in public, but just for the benefit of my beloved. I got this heart full of love, and I just have to express that with material goods!... Material goods and kisses! This year, alas, a series of extenuating circumstances made my usual tour-de-force impractical. Sure I'm a little bummed about not getting to celebrate this fantastic and exhilarating relationship in my accustomed fashion, but you know, there are worse things. And at least that proves I'm not a slave to the "impossible expectations" of the November through February Holiday Hell-Gauntlet. Right?
...Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day
That's all I really wanted to say...
-with apologies to Paul Simon
posted by Matt at
10:06 PM
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