February 14th. Valentine's Day. Although, when I was a child, if anyone in my fifth grade class was foolish (or forgetful) enough to refer to today as "Valentine's Day" they would've promptly gotten their ears boxed by Sister Joseph Claire who was conducting a one-nun battle against the creeping heathenism in the world, as evidenced by the unsaved hordes attempt to hijack the Feast Day of a Roman Catholic Saint and turn it into something mundane, pedestrian and worst, irreligious, like a day devoted to love and to lovers. When it should be a day spent contemplating Christian pain and martyrdom. God knows, SHE was a martyr and a right royal pain.
Whatever. Like most Catholic theology, though, it's based primarily on a bunch of half-truths, outright lies and a healthy serving of dogmatic horseshit. There were three people whom it might've been based on, spread out over five centuries. But, at the end of the day, who really gives a rat's ass? Even the Church eventually gave up on St. Valentine and dropped him from the calendar in 1969 (along with St. Christopher).
My sister in blogging, Bev, over at Funny The World, blogged today about the childhood pain of not getting any Valentine cards or gifts.
Initially I thought that nobody loved me but, in truth, I didn't want to get any Valentine's Day tokens. In fact, though, I didn't want to GET them because I didn't want to GIVE them.
And why was that? Well, primarily because I knew that even though Robert M***** was probably going to grow up to be either a priest or a hairdresser, he probably wouldn't have appreciated getting a great big smack on the lips from me during recess in the Fifth grade.
Even though he was the CUTEST WIDDLE FING (There. My dirty little secret is out. I had the hots for Robert M***** in the Fifth grade).
Since I could never express my proper feelings towards the real objects of my romantic attractions as a child in Catholic School in the 1950s-60s, I dreaded the approach of this day every year and was glad when it was finally over.
There are some things in life which, having missed experiencing them in one's youth, can never be captured again.
The innocent joy of asking someone to "Be My Valentine" is one of them.
I envy the young lovers of the world.
Suck it up, kids. Nothing lasts forever.