Sigh...

I have been in a sighs-able funk lately.  I can only pinpoint it on the fact that I haven't had much of a social life lately.  This past week has been demonstrably worse and I blame Valentine's Day.

I have always tried to tell myself that this holiday is meaningless.  I pride myself on being a no-fuss, low-maintenance type of gal.  I don't wear much jewelry. I often shop re-sale. I was a tom boy growing up.  But every time I really try to convince myself that I don't need flowers on February 14, I am telling myself a lie.  I have always been secretly envious of the women at work who get flowers.  The most romantic Valentine's gift I have ever gotten was an enormous heart-shaped chocolate chip cookie that my then boyfriend made for me.  He piped on frosting that spelled out "Happy Valentine's Day" but ran out of room.  He also gave me flowers and made dinner for me.  We had been dating for about three months and he was still trying to woo me. No other Valentine's gift sticks out in my memory.

I don't want to feel blue about any media-hyped gift giving event. I'm not particularly materialistic and living without a television, I'm not under a media assault to buy junk. These facts do not alleviate my sadness.

For the first time in a long time, I am in the position of kind-of-seeing someone on Valentine's.  I have no idea what to expect.  I could take the step of out and out saying I expect something. I have never done that because I can't get over the fact that it was my idea and not his. If I like a man and we are dating around a holiday, I agonize over a gift that sets the right tone.  I almost never ask a man what he wants as a gift.  Perhaps it is unfair for me to expect the same in return.  Or is it?

I can't help but feel that buying a Valentine's gift for a woman is not a daunting task. All a man has to do is buy the greatest cliche ever: flowers.  This gift requires no thought at all.  Unless a woman is a radical enviro-anarchist, we all love flowers.  I don't mean flowers for the dining room table or fireplace mantle, I mean flowers that are specifically for her.  Delivered, with a card.  In my case, delivered to work, as a sign that someone is publicly declaring he likes me. It's not that difficult.