Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre
Ok so it’s not that dramatic but let’s face it, Valentine’s Day is a pressure cooker. My single friends loathe it because it reminds them they are single. My newly divorced friends hate it because it makes them feel like failures and, quite frankly, my few happily married friends also detest it, because of the pressure of reminding each other “how much you really mean to me.”
Let’s face it, if you are still married after 20 years in this day and age, it’s a miracle unto itself and for me, I love nothing better than my husband doing the laundry and dishes, and for him I am sure my showing of love on that day comes in the form of less flannel and more stockings and heels.
Just Another Hallmark Moneymaker
Apparently, Saint Valentine or Valentus was a martyr and according to legend, myth or Wikipedia, he may have been jailed in some god awful Roman jail and fell in love with his captor’s daughter. Supposedly he sent her a love note, that read, “your Valentine.” So all those little heart shaped, 3000- grams of sugar candies that we pack into our children’s backpacks on February 14th, date way back to the 3rd century. But what does it really mean today and how many of us are sticklers for this type of history on a holiday that is supposed to be about romance.
Personally. I have never been one to care either way. In my twenties, and dating, it was nice to get flowers but since I was a waitress, I was usually working most Valentines Day, so it didn’t really matter. I do, however, remember the pleasure of people watching on that oh so special night. There were the young couples that lingered over a bottle of wine or champagne without even looking at the menus.
There were the older couples that seemed to stare off into the distance for most of the meal, with no dialogue, just perhaps memories, and there were of course those couples that were on the brink of madness and separation who thought that a pricey meal and a hint of intimacy might compensate for all that was crumbling beneath them.
National Correlation Day
When I was getting my Masters Degree, I had to take a Statistics course. Oy! “Why?” I thought. I was studying to be a therapist, not a researcher. But alas, research and statistics was part of it and so I strapped myself in for what I knew would be the toughest course of my graduate career (as I am not one for numbers, I prefer words).
I must say that my professor explained correlation in a way that piqued my curiosity by using Valentine’s Day, aka National Correlation Day for statistic nerds.
For one thing, correlations are useful because they can indicate a predictive relationship. Science and numbers can tell us whether or not things are going to work out. Could it really be that simple? Yes, it can. But what do we do when we are in love, or at least think we are? We overlook the science and the numbers and the statistics.
We are actually crazy or vain enough, or both, to think we can overcome them. Then the reality sets in. Is it really possible to overcome the variables? “His family hates mine.” “ I was never good at being faithful.” “We are both co-dependent, narcissists.” The variables are endless, and more importantly, the science shows that with so many uncontrollable variables, the likelihood of the correlation working out is less than promising.
Love Heals All
I have this saying hanging in my bathroom, Love Heals All. Maybe not the most appropriate room, but certainly a place of contemplation for many, especially men. But what does it really mean and how does Valentines Day factor into the true definition of love? I believe that if you are in that giddy stage of romance, where every utterance is a tangible bolt of lightening, or the mother of a first grader who makes the biggest heart possible and colors it with all his might in hues of reds and pinks, then Valentine’s Day earns its reputation.
But if you are part of the other 88.9%, with a standard deviation of 1.5 (god I love statistics) then by all means, save the money on overpriced roses, let go of the anticipation of earth shattering sex, and don’t make reservations for outlandishly priced dinners that come with a bottle of cheap champagne. Instead, with whomever you love, young or old, throw on a pair of comfy pajamas, light a fire, play a board game, write a letter, pick up the phone to an old friend or watch an old beloved movie, whatever the case, sit back and feel the stats.