So Valentine’s Day. I can hear the groans of melancholy across the broadband cables, for a day dedicated to the idea of Love and all things Romantic it’s a contentious subject.
I decided this year to Google the origins of Valentine’s Day as we all know the common saying: “Valentine’s Day was created by Hallmark for profit” It turns out, Valentine’s Day, or the Feast of Saint Valentine, has origins dating back to the pre-Christian era. In ancient Rome, the 13th, 14th and 15th were celebrated as Lupercalia, a pagan fertility festival. Young men would strip naked and use whips to spank the backsides of young women in order to improve their fertility (I am not making this up, I swear: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/sex/valentines-day/7187784/History-of-Valentines-Day.html). Circa 496 AD the then Pope, Gelasius, declared 14th February to be St Valentine’s Day, a Christian feast day. Christianity sure knows how to take all the fun out of a holiday. And today? We send around a billion Valentine cards each year, not to mention the amount of money spent on gifts and flowers and chocolate. (I hear sometimes you don’t have to buy them for yourself.)
As it turns out, Valentine’s
Day has a real history. It may now be over commercialised, but surely you can
say that for all pagan come Christian holidays? What about Christmas? Easter? You
can’t tell me those holidays are not dominated by cards – credit and paper. But
underneath all those clichés, red roses, heart shaped chocolate boxes and teddy
bears (come on guys have some imagination), there is a wonderful day. Everyone
has someone who loves them all year round and Valentine’s Day is a wonderful
excuse to tell them. For all you cynics who still think it is nonsense, use it
as an excuse to get drunk mid-week (preferably not on your own, there is
nothing worse than drinking alone on Valentine’s day, except perhaps drinking
alone and watching The Notebook...).
The thing about
Valentines’s Day, whether you are a skeptic one of those super romantic types
(with little hand cut heart confetti, balloons and love heart underwear) or
somewhere in between, is that it will without a doubt get you thinking about
Love. This year, Valentines’ Day certainly got me thinking about my own
romantic life. I am 26 and tragically single. I say tragically not in the sense
of my own emotional stability, but more in regard to my current lack of romantic
prospects *cue image of tumbleweed blowing in the wind and string quartet *. I’m
not fishing for sympathy here; I am, despite appearances, not a crazy cat lady.
So what is the hold up?
Maybe I’ve become more
idealistic in my pursuit of love. I
wasn't idealistic when I was 20. I wasn't settling but perfection didn't seem
so imperative. I was happy testing the waters, growing as a person, playing the
field, opening new doors, and all those other hackneyed sayings. But now the
moment I like someone, even a little, there are a hundred questions going
through my head. Questions that by the time I have answered conclude with one
simple point: there are too many incompatibilities; too much friendship and not
enough romance, too much romance and not enough laughter.
It is conceivable these thought patterns
are detrimental, that my ideals prevent me from diving head first into someone
(metaphorically and actually) who could be everything I ever wanted just
because he might not fit in the big heart-shaped box I built for him. But the counter
argument always stands; why should I settle? Square pegs round holes; it just isn't going to work. I am by no means an elitist; my list of traits and requirements
is not a mile long. Realistically it could be said I want three things;
laughter, friendship and passion. Surely those are the broad strokes that make
up the tapestry of any good love story? Consequently it's not that I am
idealistic but realistic; it's not settling, it's knowing what you want. Mediocre
won't work anymore. So, for me, in my little nest of social philosophy, until
the right guy comes along, preferably wearing a bow-tie and shares a love of
Harry Potter that teeters on obsession, my friends will have to bear the brunt of my love, often
clingy, always physical and rarely muted.
