The only action I’ve gotten on Valentine’s Day for roughly a quarter of a century has been powered by batteries – and I’ve only had that toy since college. While I was probably too young during most of that time to really need a serious love interest on V-Day, it does leave me with about a decade of prime time, watching prime time, surrounded by boxes of bonbons, in an empty bed. Wow, that’s a mouthful. No, seriously, read it out loud. (Insert seductive wink.)

So when everyone asked what I’d be writing about for V-Day, I thought long and hard about bashing it as a corporate holiday created by Hallmark Cards. And then I thought, no way! I’m going to put a little fun back into our chocolate-dipped holiday. Along the way, you might feel as if you’re back in English Lit class, or that you somehow mistook a printed transcript from the History Channel for your favorite free publication, Red Shtick. Either way, just keep reading. I promise to add a little spice to tradition, and maybe even defy convention along the way.

I dumped my high school sweetheart the day before Valentine’s Day. He’d already sent a dozen long-stemmed roses. We’d attended our high school’s sweetheart dance together, which included making out on top of his family’s pool table. But I’d freaked, panicked, and called him the night of February 13th to tell him I just wasn’t interested anymore.

Truth be told, I was very, very interested. I was so interested in Colby, in fact, that I was horribly frightened. Suddenly, and I know this is big for a 16-year-old girl, I’d realized that I was no longer in control of my heart.

Half the fun was in the tease, the draw, the seduction…but it was gone. Granted, I’m sure he thought there was still some tease in it, or rather, that I was a tease, as he’d never so much as made it past second base with me. But I had him hooked, and I was bored.

So really, Valentine’s Day at 16 years of age was the start of a new game. It was as if I was back out there and in prime position to make my pick.

I’m not the first woman to have this thought, but I should probably give you a little background to help you understand exactly what I mean.

The Catholic Church actually used to recognize several St. Valentine’s Days. There is, of course, February 14, but also included were January 7; May 2; July 16; September 2; October 25; November 3, 11, and 13; and December 16. (If you’re a male, and you’re reading this after the 14th and you’ve forgotten to do something special for your sweetheart, tell her you’re just waiting for one of the more historical moments to woo her.) The really funny thing is that, in 1969, the Catholic Church actually removed the February 14 St. Valentine’s Day from its calendar.

What may interest you even more is that St. Valentine actually had nothing to do with lovers. That’s right: This is one of those holidays with a mashed-up, messed-up, pagan/Christian/corporate identity that we pretend is completely based upon religion and our tender feelings of love. Oh, oops! Did I just say that in print? Oh well.

Of course, some Christians still celebrate this as if it were a real memorial for lovers. That started in 1836, when tourists made their pilgrimage to the saintly remains of one of those ten or so Saints Valentine (Valentinus, if you want to be correct, or make it sound like a very strange and unpleasant STD) to participate in a special Mass dedicated to the hearts and souls of young lovers everywhere.

Another more interesting origin of V-Day is that it actually resembles a pre-Roman holiday, Lupercalia. History writes several different versions of this celebration. My favorite, however, includes a memorial to the god Pan and human and/or goat sacrifices. It doesn’t sound very romantic, but it definitely keeps with the red color scheme.

What I think may be the most accurate origin and explanation of our historical celebration of V-Day actually comes from Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1343-1400). You remember him from English Lit, right? Think The Canterbury Tales: “The Knight’s Tale,” “The Friar’s Tale,” and who can forget “The Cook’s Tale”? OK, maybe you don’t remember them all, but you probably remember the first.

Well, Chaucer actually wrote an incredible, 700-line poem called The Parliament of Fowles. Within this crudely penned poem seems to be the origin of V-Day as we know it…that is, if you can imagine yourself represented by a bird, Venus, Cupid, or Nature. I’d like to think of myself as Venus, but what sane woman wouldn’t?

Essentially, all of Nature’s birds flock to this one place on February 14: swans, nasty NYC pigeons, eagles, all of them. All the males line up across from the females. It starts with Nature letting the birds do as they always have, which is to say that the men pick their mates without any accord for what the females want. Typical. But the squabbling is so intense that nothing gets done.

Nature bursts in to take control and decides that the females, from now on, get to pick their mates. However, they get to pick three rather than just one! And instead of mating for life, the males are destined to woo the females for a year. All the while, she lets the sexual tension build until she decides she wants to choose a lover and mate for life.

I think it’s brilliant. And this was written in 1382, so Valentine’s Day began on February 14, 1383 in the form of fanciful and courtly love.

Now, don’t you just feel so much smarter? That might even prove to serve you as entertaining conversation in case you end up on a blind date for V-Day.

What it did for me was to remind me that maybe I knew what I was doing when I was just 16. OK, there are a lot of what-ifs that circulate around breaking up with Colby, like would I actually have had someone to dance with at senior prom? Would I actually have lost my virginity in high school? But I am so much more satisfied knowing that I have spent a decade’s worth of Valentine-less V-Days fanning the flames of possible lovers, rather than being stuck at dinner with someone whom I was only moderately interested in.

So single, taken, or somewhere in between, V-Day has it all for you, unless, of course, you’re still into sacrificial slaying of goats. If that’s the case, you should probably spend the 14th with your shrink.