Candied Hearts

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Yeah, you think you know what I’m about to say. Perhaps next year I’ll write a Valentine’s themed story.

Until then, some disjoined thoughts on Valentine’s Day – just pretend you follow…

Sweetheart Duckies

I’m not going to rant about Valentine’s Day. Other cynical people do enough of that in the weeks preceding and following, and all I can do is skim them and roll my eyes.
I like Valentine’s Day, not because on February 15 the best chocolate in on sale for 75% off, but because it gives us a chance to tell those dear to us how much we care.

The cynical among you will say, “But misguided child, what’s wrong with the other 364 days,” to which I respond, “Not everyone has that luxury,” and then the kneecapping begins.

Yes there are people who treat this day as an extended and exclusive Christmas, but for some of us, those without the disposable income to drop a few grand on a necklace or a call girl, we treat this day as something special we look forward to. We can get dressed up and pull some money pout and have a nice dinner, or rent an extra film, or send the kids to a sitters for night. Some people need to have a special day set aside to be romantic, because, let’s face it, Real Life just doesn’t allow for it anymore.

Valentine’s Day is the one day you can present something sweet or scented to someone without feeling like a stalker – unless you are a stalker, in which case today is like Christmas.

Today isn’t about excuses or jewelry, but bashful grins and much toeing of the carpet (okay you pervert – you know what I mean). Days like today are for putting an exclamation point on, either loudy or with a whisper, on the heart of the one you adore, for taking an extra twenty out of the bank, for choosing salmon instead of cod, filet instead of flank. It really is *your* day, and better than a birthday because you don’t age.
Today is for knowing that someone somewhere puts you high on a pedestal and pays you homage in that way that makes your toes curl and your hands tingle and your heart sigh – whether they tell you or not.

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Just this fox. I'm a writer of horror and dark fantasy. I totally don't brag about it. The latter statement is an utter lie.
little black duck
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