It’s only just begun, and already we’re becoming inundated with messages everywhere.
Even the World Wide InterWeb o’ Goodness.
Everywhere we go, everything we see or hear is revolving around one thing: Valentine’s Day.
Yes, I know, writing about it only proliferates this day, this Hallmark-acclaimed “holiday” where couples everywhere seemingly get all mushy, perfect strangers fall in love, and everyone, everywhere, is engaging in perfect, abundant lovemaking. (Not sex, of course – only luuurrrvvvv.)
Or at least according to the media.
They assert, via one electronic medium or the other, that all women swoon over candy, jewelry, and – the most prevalent – flowers. That this simple token of affection (if you count $80 for 12 roses ‘simple’) will make even the coldest heart melt, sending the one you love (or lust, or perhaps just want to see naked) straight into your arms. Is it worth it? Does this overdone tactic really work?
I wouldn’t know…with the exception of my Secret Admirer flowers last year, I’ve never been the recipient of an overpriced Valentine’s bouquet by a suitor. Birthday? Yes. Flowers from Pops? Yep, that too. One year I even received a drawing of flowers by a beau (made with office supplies of a neon yellow highlighter-filled daisy…at the time I thought it was charming) – but as a wooing effort from a wooer – nilch.
Not that it would have done any good – it’s a defacto standard for women in this generation to ‘pooh pooh’ the idea of flowers on Valentine’s Day…we’d “rather have them any other time of the year, why spend twice as much?” We’d of course prefer something sentimental, something personalized, something unique to us, and our relationship. While, of course, those latter gifts are fantastic and always appreciated, I’m not convinced that we (as a collective group of woo-able 20-somethings) would rather have those instead of flowers.
Because sometimes, reason be damned, us girls are just girls and as cliched as it is, a Valentine’s Day present by any other name…is not a rose.