‘To love someone means to see him as God intended’ – Fyodor Dostoevsky
It’s Saint Valentine’s Day, again. I’m wearing knee-high socks with tiny pink and red hearts on them (under my pants of course), my nails are painted red, and I was sure to put my Swarovski crystal heart-shaped ring from Vienna
It’s too bad. Valentine’s Day makes many single people wonder why they’re single and it evokes feelings of pressure and disappointment when expectations fall short. Since when do women think that a box of chocolate and a Walgreens-bought teddy bear translate to love? They’re only forced gifts that don’t mean anything. Hand-written notes have been replaced by Hallmark cards that express it all – exactly what you meant to say, right? Why can’t Valentine’s Day be a day in which you tell those people in your life that mean something exactly how much you love having them around? I suppose some of us manage that, but there’s still such a discrepancy in meaning between holidays such as Christmas and Easter … and Valentine’s Day.
I shouldn’t be one to complain - I’ve had proportionately good encounters with this holiday. It’s rare that you find a guy who knows how to create a meaningful experience, and who makes you forget why you hated the day in the first place … A guy who is so genuine in his love for you that you consider yourself the luckiest girl on this earth. I freely admit, I’ve got that. And it’s not just on Valentine’s Day.
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