Ah, Valentine's Day, the one day a year that florists, chocolatiers, and greeting card manufacturers (not to mention restaurants, independent high-class and so-so class chain joints alike) all rejoice in the sudden swelling of their coffers.
Not to put too much of a cynical spin on it.
There are millions and millions of people all over the world (something like a hundred countries celebrate some version of Valentine's Day - in Latin America, it's known as Dia del Amor y la Amistad) expressing their affections towards someone on Valentine's Day.
With so much participation around the globe, one is somewhat forced to lend it some credence as a bonafide celebration of romantic love, eh?
However, there are those who disdain the blatant commercialization and abhor the societal pressure that is placed upon individuals to flamboyantly display/express their affections towards their mate/significant other/sorta serious friend/frequent but casual hook-up.
And then there are those who are not involved with another on any interpersonal level whatsoever, romantic, casual, or pay-as-you-go. Those people really have it rough (that is, according to the small sample of my circle of friends and acquaintances who fit into that demographic they do - heck, according to most of them it's the worst day of the year, period).
Those people are fairly vociferous about how much they despise the holiday.
The ones who have it even worse than them though? Gotta be those who have recently gone through a break-up, amiable, amicable, or otherwise. Even if the break-up was a long time coming, the first Valentine's Day afterward has got to be just a little more than irksome.
Especially if the end of the relationship was so bad one or the other parties involved had to take a chisel to the initial that was preserved with their partners in cement, encircled by a heart as a statement of their eternal devotion.
Sometimes even being etched in stone isn't a guarantee.
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