What? Me Bitter?

So technically, it's Valentine's Day now. Never one of my favorites.

I know it's not really meant to be an evil or spiteful holiday, but I hope you'll all excuse me for holding the bitter perspective on it. Besides, I know I'm not alone. Women have expectations, men have obligations, and single people have neither, which is quite possibly worse than bearing either of the two other onerous burdens.

But I will end the tirade there. I have no doubt that the region in which I live is brimming over with people who could wax vitriolic about a holiday that appears, like so many other holidays, to have been usurped by business interests that seek to make a dirty buck off of all of our human hopes and dreams. So if I rant, I'll be adding nothing useful or insightful to the mix - I would just be another voice in a crowd of bitter folk, who will be spending today locked in their rooms trying to pretend this day doesn't exist, or sitting head bowed in the kitchen stuffing down quarts of ice cream, with a CD of sappy music shoved into the player and set on repeat.

I'll be at the florist's instead. I'm hoping that a moment of nobility - or failing that, martyrdom - awaits me there. I will be spending the afternoon helping my old friend handle business, counting and arranging bouquets, and rather than lock myself in my room spewing vicious hatred at the outside world, I'll be doing what I can to make the holiday a good one for those who have something to look forward to. I can see some of them already...

Frantic guys rushing in with a fistful of loose dollar bills, lacking any clue whatsoever about what flowers they ought to buy. Hand-holding couples on their way back from lunch, basking in a special day of happiness. Long-time lovers who never needed Valentine's Day to remember how dear they are to one another, who nonetheless find that a ribbon-wrapped bundle of red and pink would be a perfect way to share another moment. Partners separated by distance, treasuring a rare day spent in precious company. Freshman girls looking to buy bags of rose petals for decorating their dorm floor. Nervous suitors trying to find a glamorous floral accompaniment to over-rehearsed declarations of affection.

I may not have anyone, but I have never been one to seek my own happiness at the expense of someone else's. I could hate them all for having what I don't, but I shan't. Some of them deserve this day... happiness is never to be taken for granted, but interestingly, it's something you can promulgate whether or not you have any of your own... if you've enough strength to try.

Roses bearing petals of regal red, velvety to the touch... lighter pink roses, with crisper, thinner petals that float for blocks when cast to the wind. Bittersweet white ones that whisper, "Maybe... and maybe not." A bunch with long stems, meticulously pruned of thorns, makes for a display of tempered elegance and luxury without risk or pain. Nestled in a brittle cloud of white Babies' Breath, it passes to a tall, thoughtful-looking student who's been looking forward to this day all month. A small bunch of carnations, pretty but humble, go to the next one in line, who's been seeking a way to deliver the tacit signal that means to say, "I love you but we're just friends." And another, who spends ten full minutes looking at the buckets and bins looking for the biggest, most beautiful rose at the stand; the only one that could do justice to an offering upon bent knee. The next purchases a huge bunch of three dozen red roses, all dressed up, right in front of his sweetheart; she grasps it and draws in a breath of love's fragrance even before her boyfriend has passed the money to the ever-busy florist. I duck past the ever-growing line to retrieve more sheaves of flowers and a spool of ribbon to begin work on another series of pre-made bouquets, arranged in anticipation of those who need something beautiful but don't have the time or knowledge to pick out something on their own. I smile at the customers, whether they are calm, anxious, or too distracted to notice, and assemble these bouquets with the degree of care I would use if I were putting one together for my own imagined significant other.

By the day's end, I'll be asking how it's possible for me to hate these people. I can only hope to be one of them, somehow and some day. Meanwhile, this is how I'll get by. Happily, I won't exactly be alone, either - I'm looking forward to seeing at least one other good friend at the flower stand. Between the friendship and the flowers, this will be a day to enjoy, and not just endure. (You know who you are... many heartfelt thanks go to you :) )

Happy Valentine's Day.