Small Talk: Not feeling the love for Valentine’s Day

Oh yippee. Only five more days until St. Valentine’s Day. You will never, ever convince me this guy was a saint. In fact, I really doubt it was a guy at all. I’m betting it was some woman who whacked off her hair and slapped on a monk’s cowl in an effort to get her husband’s attention.

The result has become this tiresome day when every man gets the opportunity to have his thoughtlessness really stand out. Doesn’t every woman need a day geared to squash that fantasy that men suddenly want to drop everything and cuddle?

Some women don’t mind giving gentle reminders to their significant others. The way I see it, if I have to remind a man to notice me, any real sincerity comes seriously into question. Cripes, my dog will roll over if I ask him to, but that sure as heck doesn’t mean that he wanted to. And I have no time for the magazine’s advice that I “turn it around and make him the object of the Valentine goodies.” I tried that. My kind and well-meaning husband just smiled and said, “Oh, thanks. I might have some of that cake after I check my email, mow the lawn and take my shirts to the cleaner.”

The pressure to be romantic once a year has become a marketer’s dream. On every storefront there are giant pink hearts. Every magazine cover offers recipes for intimate dinners for two. On every sidewalk there are deals on roses. The kids are buying their cute, little heart-shaped cards and the candy aisles look like a “Lolita” film festival. Even the men’s department offers clever boxer shorts covered with lipstick kisses, which most men would sooner leave the planet than wear, anywhere, anytime. Don’t even go near the lingerie department of your local department store. That much concentrated spandex and ostrich feathers may cause a serious rash.

My simple and delicious solution is to order up spring rolls, some dim sum and perhaps some war won ton soup and spend the entire month of February celebrating the Year of the Dog. Gung Hay, Fat Choy!

Jean Gillette is a freelance writer who will admit this is a great excuse to buy herself a pound of chocolate.

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