It's Valentine's Day today. I'll spare you the full force of my bitterness -- I haven't had a non-disastrous date in about 5 years. However, I think I am adopting my roommate's name for it -- Dies Irae, the Day of Wrath.
The funny thing is, it's not even meant to be February 14th. It's supposed to be related to Lupercalia, an old Roman fertility holiday, but it actually comes from
a story by Geoffrey Chaucer, on which Valentine's Day was the day on which all the birds chose their mate for the year.
Chaucer invented this tradition, and he seems to have been thinking of of May 2, the feast of St. Valentine of Genoa.
For some reason, it got moved/confused with the feast of a different St. Valentine, about whom nothing is known except that he was martyred.
So remember, Montrealers, when you're out there freezing in -25-with-the-windchill weather to go through the ritual date with your loved one -- or person you met last night online -- remember that this ritual self-flagellation for the coupled and the single could've been in May instead.
Now the only question is, why do the lovers get the chocolate when the singles need it more?