Historically, I have set myself up to abhor this holiday. I haven't quite broken out of the angsty middle school angry chick-lit loving black-wearing "counterculturalism" mentality that generally makes a bigger deal over Valentine's Day than those who actually observe the holiday the "correct" way. It's kind of fun being an outspoken grump.
Last VD (I would also like to point out that the abbreviation is the same for "venereal disease"), I found myself stuck in an elevator. It was only for a half-hour, but I had a lovely chat with the other guy in there (I get eyebrow wiggles when I say this, but I assure you, we were just talking, otherwise I wouldn't be blogging about it). Actually, I think I still have his phone number, but we never did get around to hanging out after that. Regardless, I highly recommend getting stuck in elevators as a pretty solid way to generate life-long memories.
This year, however, there's a lesser degree of cynicism...definitely haven't verged into the appreciative category, either, but more...apathetic, I guess. I suppose holidays in general invoke fewer and fewer emotions as you age. Though oddly enough, we have two performances of Dido and Aeneas today. This means two things: 1) Because I am in the pit, I actually have to wear black all day, and 2) I get to sit through two episodes of tragic Roman love gone wrong.
I also had to laugh at the menu at meal hall tonight--corn dogs (pogos), onion rings, and french fries with chili and cheese sauce. Some guy pointed out that they're catering to the crowd without valentines...I agreed, though I think they also ought to be passing out cans of Reddi-Whip and cheap boxed chocolates, along with tissues for dramatic effect.