Ah, Valentine's Day! The most egregiously irrelevant, obviously commercialized, pseudo-holiday of the year. I have tried to fight it. I have tried to ignore it. I have tried to delay it, arguing that if you let me wait a few days, I'll be able to buy you a much bigger heart-shaped box of chocolates for half price. Nothing has worked. So every February 14, I make some kind of gift of some red thing or another. There are worse fates.

I mostly tune it out, but there's always some pop media headlines here or there about the trials and tribulations of romance. This year was no different. To be honest, it's a relief to see any news story now that's not about Anna Nicole Smith, the astronaut stalker lady, Iraq, or Democratic presidential hopefuls (You long-time readers know I'm a big anti-Republican ranter, but I'm starting to hate the Democrats, too. Any intellectually honest person knows a realistic timetable for withdrawing from Iraq should be measured in decades, not months. I don't like it, but I can't deny it. Promising that, if elected, you'll bring the troops home is pathologically disingenuous.)

Anyway, one Valentine's Day-type featurette headline I saw on some website caught my eye:

Q: What's the craziest thing you ever did for love?

I didn't read the piece. I can certainly picture what it would say and I can imagine no enlightenment or amusement from it. However, I did find myself reflexively pondering the question. An answer popped into my head immediately:

A: Given up other things I loved.

-- mm

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