Resisting Valentine's Day


There are just some people who come over all hearts and flowers and pink-foil balloons and Hallmark-card sentiment around St. Valentine's Day and others, like me, who so do not. I snarl. I sneer. I scorn. So what am I doing here?

Well you might ask. The thing is, sooner or later, you're browbeaten. To keep moaning on and droning against it is to be a party-pooper, like someone who complains so much at a game of charades that she draws unwelcome attention to her one feeble effort. It's a bit like the Borg really: Resistance is futile.
It's as if we're twins! (And I will just toss in Mother's Day and Father's Day into that selection that I sneer at and scorn.) Except that since resistance is futile I insist on going to dinner with Tom on Valentine's Day.

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