Valentine postmortem thoughts Phase One

I do not recall what I did for Valentine’s day the year before last. I was in a relationship at the time. This insight was an aha moment. Almost a week after Valentines day which fell squarely on a weekend (pressure!!!) and I feel like lucky. What is it about? To the men, is it the verbal confessions of love and pledging your loyalty in the form of delivery in flowers and chocolates? Ultimately the unveiling of good loving as a reward in the darkness of night! To the women, this day is planned for. The clothes, the makeup, the knickers, the scent and the scene. There is a lot of pressure to be the best that you can be on this day. Is it for ourselves? Is it so it can obvious to all and sundry that indeed, we are loved!
I was witness to a woman beaten on this day. She was chased out of her home barely dressed. Did I mention she was married? I know of a woman who spent that day wallowing in emotional self flagellation. It was in between wiping her tear stained face and sniffling that the agony of her spinsterhood was verbalized.
What is it about? What really are the cracks about it? I braced myself for this day the moment January birthed February. Self-preservation? Yes indeed. Flowers? What if I buy myself a bouquet of flowers every fortnight made up of white lilies mixed with red and white roses, fillers and ferns? It’s the chocolate you say. I never want for it because there is always some in my refrigerator. That is not enough, I know. We want these things to be handed to us by the apple of our eye, with affection, might I add. On the same breathe men to want to deliver these niceties to a warm blooded animal which bears the capacity to appreciate such a gesture.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is where the rubber meets the road.