Huck the folidays: February edition

So here we are, teetering on the brink of another Hallmark Holiday.

Show your love with diamonds. Show your love with roses. Show your love with chocolates. Show your love with any shitty pink and red gift you get at the corner convenience store because you don't want to look like a heel by not buying something. Buy, buy, buy. If you don't, you don't love him. If you don't, she'll leave you for the guy with the bigger dick and bigger box of chocolates. True story, yo.

Seriously, I've got a better idea: Show your love every day.

Wow, me, going against the grain? Don't buy into the marketing and the hype? What's next? A job working for the government?

*ahem*

If you do a little research (very little, as I hit up wikipedia for my info), you'll notice some interesting things about Valentine's Day. Such as:

>> On St. Valentine's Day in 1349, roughly 2,000 Jews were burned to death by Christian mobs in Strausbourg. These mobs, led by nobles who owed large sums to Jewish moneylenders (usury being a sin for Christians), blamed the Jews for poisoning the city's wells and causing the bubonic plague.
>> The earliest surviving valentine dates from 1415. It is a poem written by Charles, Duke of Orleans to his wife. At the time, the duke was being held in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt.
>> It is probable that the various legends about St. Valentine were invented during this period. Among these legends:
* On the evening before Valentine was to be martyred for being a Christian, he passed a love note to his jailer's daughter that read, "From your Valentine."
* During a ban on marriages of Roman soldiers by the Emperor Claudius II, St. Valentine secretly helped arrange marriages.
>> In 1836, relics of St. Valentine of Rome were donated by Pope Gregory XVI to the Whitefriar Street Carmelite Church in Dublin, Ireland. In the 1960s, the church was renovated and relics restored to prominence.
>> In 1969, as part of a larger effort to pare down the number of saint days of purely legendary origin, the Church removed St. Valentine's Day as an official holiday from its calendar. February 14 is now dedicated only to Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius.

I don't think there's anything in the history about what you need to give people. Plus, Valentine isn't even a saint. Who the fuck cares? And find that Cupid bastard. He can shove that bow and arrow some place -- sideways.

Don't accuse me of being bitter or not being in love. On the contrary, I'm extremely happy with my personal life; I love and I'm loved. We're just us. I don't need to buy my man expensive gifts for him to know he's loved because I tell him every day. He doesn't need to buy me things for me to know how he feels. It's a part of our relationship, it's part of us.

I like the idea of romantic love; I much prefer the kind of love I have right now -- thick or thin, good or bad, it's there. I don't love Scott less if he's had a bad day; I probably love him more so he can have more good vibes headed his way. The kind of love that's important to me (and Mel touched on this in her blog) is the love that's with you all the time. It's the little in-jokes, the things that seem silly to other folks but are important to you. It's the text message at lunch asking "How did it go?" It's the text message when you're stuck at work late at night that says "your cat misses you" that makes you smile. It's a visible reminder that you're being thought of.

The girlie part of me dreams up weekend get aways, trips abroad as part of romantic love. Really, place isn't as important as who's there with me. I could be on a budget (as is often the case) and the trip is across town ... as long as we're together, I'm happy.

I think a lot of people use Valentine's Day to rub people's faces in their idea of happiness. "My man got me this big-ass diamond ring that 300 slave-laborer children died for. Oh, you got some roses?" Bigger boxes of chocolate, bigger bouquets ... it doesn't fucking matter. Be happy someone is thinking of you. Be grateful for what you have. And feel free to show love more than one day out of the year.

Real love doesn't come from a diamond mine or a rose bush. It's not filled with helium, and it's not a stuffed dog with a heart in its mouth. It's inside, it's part of you. Really, the best way to understand love?

Start with yourself.