I wore black today. So did the majority of my female co-workers. It reminded me of another group of co-workers years ago. We were all single moms, we all had lost hope of meeting 'Mr. Right,' and we all hated with a passion the silly, pink hearts, cards and flowers commercialism of a meaningless holiday.
So every Valentine's Day (or the last work day before) we all wore black. We also were fairly evil to any unfortunate male who crossed our paths that day. We figuratively shook our fists at the heavens and screamed "Lies! It's all lies! There is no cupid! There is no holiday which makes a man mired in his jerkdom suddenly turn into Prince Charming. If we get flowers or candy on the day, it does NOT make the relationship all better." We rejected the power of Hallmark. When you are alone or unhappy, Valentine's Day is the main holiday that seems to deliberately point out your misery.
Today, I still think it's a made up commercial extravaganza, but I not longer hate the holiday. I did finally meet my Prince Charming. I will admit there is a happily every after. I actually didn't deliberatly wear black today, and none of my co-workers seem to wear it with a purpose. I wore it because it matched, and it wasn't wrinkled.
I do still reject the power of Hallmark though.