The problem with Valentine’s Day isn’t the hearts, nor is it the roses or candy or even the jewelry. It’s the fact that on this day, more than most, you clearly fall into one of two camps: those who have and those who do not.
Those who ‘have’, have plans. Have significant others. Have flowers taking up all available desk space, and – even if it really doesn’t mean anything – have evening plans with someone ten years their junior so, for the night at least, have a warm body.
Those who ‘have not’, don’t. And never is it more readily evident than this day, as their desks stay as messy as ever though remain unobstructed by pesky overflowing roses and tulips and daisys. Their evenings are free, their dinners may consist of a Lean Cuisine lovingly heated up by themselves as they crack open a bottle of cheap Merlot (egads! Merlot!) and watch Tivo’d reruns of “Dancing With the Stars.” Or – worse yet – their dinner may be a $5 snack box on a United flight that gets them in, exhausted, right at their bedtime and the airport bar is even too crowded to grab a pre-boarding drink.
You can probably guess which camp I fall into after I provide you with this following hint:
While walking down the terminal just now, I noticed an attractive man about my age. Wearing a dark suit, he sported well-coiffed hair and had the edge of masculinity that caused me to confidently assess that thankfully he wasn’t yet another metrosexual who would keep me wondering his true sexual preference. Apparently sensing my glance, he turned to look at me with startlingly blue eyes. Only then did I glance down and take note of his collar – with the tell-tale white breaking up the otherwise black starched collar, I was checking out a priest.
And I can’t even find a seat to have a beer to celebrate my decension to new lows on this Valentine’s Day.