Well, here we are, another February and only three more sleeps until Valentine’s. Everybody’s favorite day of love.  Roses and diamonds and chocolates and fancy dinners and cards that, no matter how long and hard you search, never seem to say the exactly right thing.

Expectations. Disappointments.

Shit.

Can you tell I’m not a huge fan?

My friend B says we should celebrate love every day and I agree. One day set aside for romantic love is pretty much a disaster waiting to happen.  Remember in grade school when we all passed out those sweet little cardboard Valentines and then compared notes to see who got the most?  See what I mean? We were programmed for amorous disaster from an early age.

And if you don’t have a Valentine on this auspicious day you BIG FAT LOSER guess what?  We don’t care. We’ve designed a special day to magnify your pain and the magnificent putz that you are.

And who is we, you might ask?  I suspect the folks at Hallmark although I’m not quite ready to testify.

However, there is remedy, my friends and I am here to share it with you.  When February 14 rolls around this Friday, celebrate love.  Celebrate love with all your heart. Celebrate your love for your children, your parents, your friends, your job, your music, your town, your country (Go Team Canada!). Celebrate love in all its forms and forget – completely and utterly – that Cupid’s Day is designed for lovers.  Drop the r and the s and just celebrate love.

I did this several years ago when I was single with not a “lover” in sight on this hallowed occasion. What to do, pondered I, with the generous gift certificates to my favorite restaurant in my  possession?  The answer? Take out someone I love.  So on Valentine’s Eve, my beautiful friend C and I ventured out on a cold winter’s night to wine, dine and laugh.

We did all three. We did all three with such aplomb that, as we exited the bistro, the three businessmen at a neighbouring table stopped us.  They stopped us to extol our conviviality.  To commend our boisterous rapport.  To offer up that “rarely do you see two women having such fun.”  And I, with my radio DJ ability to drop my already low voice an octave at a moment’s notice replied “What makes you think I’m a woman?”

Brought the house down.

And me too as it turned out.  Because as soon as my high-heeled boot hit the icy front stoop of the restaurant, my foot turned around on the bottom of my leg and snapped my ankle in exactly three places. 

Yep.

Happy Friggin’ Valentines to poor little ole single me.

I spent the 14^th in surgery, adding several pieces of steel to my skeleton, and the next few days hopped up on Morphine, learning to walk on crutches.  But here’s the thing – I still count that as one of my BEST Valentines ever.  I mean that.  Ever. There were no expectations and no disappointments and in spite of its inglorious conclusion, C and I really did have a wonderful evening.

This reminds me year in and year out that love should be celebrated.  And yes, B, we should celebrate it every day.  Alas, I fear that we do not.  We get caught up in the mundane tasks of everyday living and we forget to honour love.  So if one special day reminds us that love is everything, then what the heck … let’s celebrate.

I’ve already sent Valentines to my mother and my son.  I know they know I love them but who doesn’t like getting a card – a real, actual, physical card – in the real, actual, old-fashioned mail?   And my guy and I will celebrate too, one way or another.  I won’t pressure him for flowers or diamonds or chocolates (a new car would be nice).  I do love cards so here’s hoping.  And I also love surprises.  Good surprises (unlike that pesky ankle thing).

But here in February 2014 the great surprise for me is A) I have found romantic love at my advanced age and B) I am surrounded by love.  I am truly surrounded by love.

And both those things are definitely worth celebrating. 

So look out you chubby cherub … here I come!