Cupid, Februa and SpongeBob Valentines

I had an astounding revelation recently that I would like to share with you: Valentine’s Day is at its best when you are six years old.

First of all, you get tons of Valentines. You can potentially receive up to thirty or so, depending on your class size, and candy is a given since there is always some ultra-organized mom who also gives the goody bag. When picking out cards, it’s not about whether it says too much, too little or gives the right impression--it’s about true self-expression. Do you see yourself as a SpongeBob or NASCAR Valentine? My isx year old daughter is contemplating Bratz valentines for the girls, dinosaurs for the boys and homemade cards for family members.

As you get older, you realize that Valentine’s Day is actually about exchanging cards with one special person and that’s where it starts getting complicated. The expectations of having a romantic moment with that someone special always stresses me out, even after being married for sever years.

“You are such a cynic,” my husband says after hearing my Valentine’s Day-at-six-theory. “Everything is better when you are six.”

I reminded him of what he said to me last Valentine’s Day, “Did you get me a card? No? Good, I didn’t either.”

“That’s because Valentine’s Day was created by the card companies.” My husband says, in weak defense of his non-buying card behavior.

I know that the card companies created the one billion Valentine card frenzy, but I was curious about its true origins. It turns out that Valentine’s Day is most often attributed to St. Valentine, a Catholic priest who was considered by many to be a Saint. Some believe he helped rescue Christians from the Roman prisons where they were tortured. Others believe he would marry young couples, defying Emperor Claudius II’s orders for young men not to marry and become soldiers. There is also a story about how he sent a love note from prison to his sweetheart, and signed it ‘from your Valentine.’

However, my favorite origination story is the pagan holiday Lupercalia, a fertility celebration dedicated to Romulus and Remus, the doggies who founded Rome. On February 15, priests would sacrifice a goat and cut its hide into strips called februa. These strips were soaked in blood, worn by men as thongs and slapped on the backs of women. Supposedly a joyous moment for these women, they felt especially fertile and dare I say, romantic.

That is why I love history; how in the world did a blood soaked goat slap turn into a dozen red roses and a box of chocolates? I guess that is where Cupid comes into the equation. Fortunately, the little boy angel shoots people with arrows, not goatskin, and creates love between unsuspecting humans.

I can personally attest to Cupid’s power. Ten years ago, he shot my husband when I walked into a bar in Beverly Hills. I got the arrow a couple of weeks later and we became the unlikely couple of filmmaker-doctor, Kentucky-Brooklyn. Without much in common except for a love of Frank Sinatra and old cars, we fell in love and got married four years later.

This will be our tenth Valentine’s Day together and I still feel slightly nervous. What should I do to show him my love? What will he do to show his love? Will we have that romantic moment that is a testament to our ten year’s together? There’s probably a fifty-fifty chance depending on how the day goes; which kid is sick, household appliance is broken or fire needs to be extinguished.

This Valentine’s Day though, I have decided to take my own theory to heart and act like my six year old daughter who approaches it with unbridled enthusiasm and no expectations. That way, every kiss and hug will feel as exciting as the first peck on the playground.

And that beats a goatskin slap any day of the year.