Really, it's the day after that you should be terrified of.
As pointed out by Stephanie Klein, here are more Valentine's Day cards for the non-traditional (a sample's over there on the right): we love you, yes you.
A little know fact about me was that when I went to Paris two years ago, part of the reason (or at least the timing) for the trip was to avoid Valentine's Day in the city. No, really. This year, however, what with being semi-employed and all, I'm still in the city. So having been shot down by a hot chick once again, I'm celebrating the day in the traditional manner—with my close friends Johnnie Walker and Jack Daniel (actually, there's only about 1/2 drink's worth of JW left, and I've never owned any JD; there is, however, a fair amount of port and some nice mexican beer in the fridge). Any hot chicks who know where I live with nothing better to do are welcome to stop by.
I went to a panel discussion yesterday at lunch on love, hosted by The Week; I was seated at the blogger's table (what Amy Langfield called "the token under-40 table"), sharing space with, among others I don't know, the ever-third person Gothamist, Elizabeth Spiers, the legendary Manhattan Transfer, Aaron Bailey, the fabulous Eurotrash, and, of course, the aformentioned Ms. Langfield. One of the curious things that I came away with (well, other than wondering why a clearly aging and faintly gaunt-looking Farrah Fawcett was on a panel about love) was how little time they spent discussing love and how much actual time they spent discussing sex. That, and the fact that no-one up the platform was under 50 (the moderator was Harold Evans, and the other panelists were Erica Jong, whose most famous book came out when I was 1, and Edmund White, whose most famous book came out when I was 5).
Perhaps if the moderator had been Robert Evans and not Harold Evans...
Like Robert Evans knows anything more about sex than Harold Evans. It's common isn't it, for people to mistake sex for love? Or maybe they were just taking the easy way out. We all understand sex a bit better than we understand love, don't we?
Good for you for being on the panel!
I think that Robert Evans would at least have some dishier stories to tell than - I guess whatever wasn't covered in the movie about him.
Tomorrow is just another day.
Just to clarify -- I wasn't on the panel, I was just eating lunch and listening to them.
My favourite bit was when Erica Jong started shouting: "YOUNG COLLEGE GIRLS ARE DOING PORN! PORN IS BAD! ARTISTS MUST TAKE BACK DESIRE!". Or maybe when Jackie Collins said all the French were sluts. Or maybe when that woman on our table started clapping all by herself. Huge fun.
Sorry, I misread "blogger's table" as being part of the panel. Mental lapse (obviously!).
Eurotrash, you have absolutely made my day by calling me a young woman. Thank you.
Just to clarify: I was clapping all by myself because Sir Harold had just mentioned that he did think it was possible to be in love with a spouse who was also a friend, and he'd been married 21 years. Anytime I hear anyone say they've been married that long and are happy about it, I burst into loud applause.
I don't understand why you keep comparing when someone did something of note, and how old you were when they did it.
I do, though.
Oh the diversity of the blogospherenet! I celebrate it! Yo!