Like everyone else in this land of ours, I get a bad case of VD once a year. I guess I’m just not being careful about how I maintain my relationships and I get a little sloppy now and then.
I know that in this day and age, I should be exercising the proper precautions so I don’t have to deal with all the problems VD can cause in a relationship. But sadly, this has been a lifelong problem of mine.
It all started in grade school, you see. I really didn’t understand the true gravity of it, or the social stigma I would face once I was afflicted with VD. It happened in first grade. I know, about bit early to come down with a social problem, but I liked girls very early on.
I can still remember the pain of it. The horrendous agony when the cards were passed out in class. Back then you didn’t have to be politically correct. Girls and boys could hand out Valentine’s cards to only those they wished. My pile of cards was pretty pathetic.
It was then that I realized and internalized the folly of Valentine’s Day. I thought it was pretty cruel back then, but little did I know how cruel and even sinister the holiday really was.
The origins of the holiday can be traced back to the Roman feast of Lupercalia. Men would sacrifice a goat and a dog and then whip women with the hides of these recently departed animals. Unbelievable as it is now, young women would willingly line up before naked, drunk men so they could be beaten. It was believed essential to fertility. Afterwards, a lottery was held and everyone paired up and had sex.
The Valentine’s part of the celebration came about because Claudius II executed two guys named Valentine on Feb. 14, right smack dab in the middle of the festival.
While I’m not sure where the implied obligation of giving flowers and chocolates to women on Valentine’s Day began, I’m pretty sure they are offerings given to make up for the fact that our distant ancestors used to beat women with hides. We punished them… they continue to punish us.
Before you think I’m sour on romance in its entirety, you’re wrong. I can be extremely romantic. I have penned some real doozies in the romantic prose department and on more than one occasion, I have surprised my significant other with lovely gifts for seemingly no apparent reason at all.
For me, that is romance. A gift or an act of love conducted just because, not because someone back in Roman times dreamed up a holiday that was based on drunken flailing and executions. Somehow, I’m missing the romantic implications of these acts and the resulting holiday.
I suppose I could have avoided VD altogether if I had timed my relationships better. I could have just caused a brouhaha in late January and made up on Feb. 20, allowing Valentine’s Day to slip right by. But I was never very good at that. I love relationships, I love love. I just don’t like VD.
I’m not really sure any guy likes VD, quite frankly. Sure, if their girl asks them if they are planning to take them out to dinner or a movie or getting them the obligatory flowers and candy, they will answer, “of course!” Like a wild animal that had been cornered by hunters, a guy will say anything to get himself out of trouble, even if it’s Feb. 13 and it didn’t dawn on him that the next day, he was to experience VD full on.
I think we all have blinders on in that regard. For men, the calendar for February can often have a 29th day, but the middle part of the calendar gets a little fuzzy and goes something like this: Feb. 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17. At least we wish the calendar was that way.
Unfortunately, it’s not. Instead, we fumble around about what to do, almost always at the last minute. The problem isn’t that we haven’t shown our love throughout the year. We could do something loving every day of the year, but woe to us if we show up empty handed on Feb. 14. Such pressure.
I still feel that pressure, just like I did in first grade as the cards were slowly handed out by each girl. I had a card for every girl in the class, not because my mom made me, but because I liked girls, all girls. Why limit my choices at such a young age? There would be plenty of time to make mistakes down the road in the matters of the heart.
I do have to say that two years ago, I think I really topped myself when it comes to VD In the whirlwind of a new relationship, the Christmas tree was still up in early February. One day, I decided to give it VD. I got a little mylar heart balloon at the store and ordered Valentine’s cards from Amazon. Not just any Valentine’s Day cards, mind you. I bought retro ones that were exactly like the ones that had made the rounds in first grade. In each of them, I wrote a little love note to my valentine.
Every one of them different. An exercise in excess as I poured my heart out, filling a tree with notes.
I knew people would find this hard to believe, coming from me. So I took a photo of it so there would be proof. I’m certain that there have been other odes to Valentine’s Day, but few as magnificent as that VD Tree.
To all the women out there who hang all their hopes on Valentine’s Day to find out they are loved and appreciated, give us guys a bit of a break. We might love you more than you can imagine, but find the pressure of showing it on a single day to be unbearable. Gauge us by all 365 days of the year, not just the 14th of February. Otherwise, we may have to resort to our fallback plan: getting naked and drunk beating you with a dead animal skin, and hoping you’ll have sex with us afterwards. Now that’s a good reason to have VD.
Out on the Treasure Coast, or is it limbo,
– Robb