It appears to be yet another hyper-commercialised, overrated and under-criticised day of celebration.
Happy Valentine’s Day, folks.
Yes, it is that horrid day of roses and chocolate, of teddy bears and gratuitous spending that can only come from a total misinterpretation of Christian history. Sigh.
I have no issue with expressing feelings, exchanging presents, and generally being a big softie. What I take significant umbrage with is that people wait for this one day to do it. Why not spice things up and buy a dozen roses for your valentine on May 29th? How about a box of chocolates on December 4th?
Of the true St Valentine, it appears we don’t know a great deal. We know his name, we know that he was one of several Saints named Valentine to be martyred for the big dude/dudette upstairs, and we know where he was buried (somewhere in Italy). According to Wikipedia, his relics are kept at the Church of St Praxed in Rome*. There is no notion that he was the patron saint of lovers – and I would’ve thought such a conservative institution as the Catholic Church would frown on such a patronage.
One wonders where it all went wrong. Well, as is usually the case, you can blame the pre-Tudors. Geoffrey Chaucer, well-known for his Canterbury Tales (possibly deserving of a rewrite in light of the gallavantery of various rugby league teams), was, among other things, a courtier, and held a great and loyal circle of friends – think an old-school Vincent Chase. Up until his time, St Valentine’s Day was a fairly benign affair, having been originally sanctioned by Pope Gelasius** about 500 AD. Couples would exchange flowers and be very chaste***. Chaucer was a man about town, and it was around this time that courtly love was the thing. Courtly love is the ancient precursor to the practice of men being sleazy, asking if they can buy a woman a drink, which eventually leads to a drunken ravishing. Back then, it was only slightly more gentlemanly. So it was that Saucy Chaucy started sending ‘valentines’ to the women he fancied. 500-600 years later, Hallmark got a hold of the holiday and that was that.
My point is, Valentine’s Day is pointless. Pick every other day of the year to be romantic. Damn the Man.
Until next time…
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* Poor St Praxed. Praxing sounds an awfully painful process.
** I’m sure he was.
*** Read: ‘Boring.’