Valentine's Day or Schmalentine's Day?

Valentines Day: you love it, you hate it. Sometimes, you feel a little of both. A lot of singletons view Valentine's Day with ire, other's use it as an excuse to celebrate themselves. Some couples stress about that special date, caring for every detail. Then, there are those hopeful expectations only to be dashed with bitter disappointment. Other couples shrug it off and order pizza to celebrate the day for lovers.

Two of my favorite Valentine's Days happened when I was single in college and when I had been "coupled" with that special someone for a year.

When I was in college, a friend of mine and I decided to boycott Valentine's day. But instead of lurking in our dorm rooms, listening to Indigo Girls and Pearl Jam, we decided to go at it with gusto. We both wore black in protest and headed out to a nearby coffee shop to partake of as many desserts as possible. Other friends of ours stopped by to join in the festivities. We all got high off of caffeine and sugar, and agreed to protest again the following year--regardless if we were single or not.

Another time was when I had been dating my fellow for about a year, and I had forsworn any Valentine's Day celebrating the year before--saying it brought bad juju anytime I had a fellow to celebrate Valentine's Day with. But the fellow insisted that the bad luck would not transfer to us. We went out to a nice romantic dinner and had coffee after. He brought me flowers (another bad omen of mine in the past) and we had a lovely evening--despite my fears. That fellow wanted to dash my concern once and for all that Valentine's Day wasn't an apocalyptic day of reckoning, but a day to spend with that special someone.

This year we might just order pizza instead--and that is just fine. Every day is special for us. I'm still with my same sweetie, and now I call him Husband.

Do you have any special plans? Will you lurk in the darkness and eat chocolate? Are you going out with that special someone? Was there a Valentine's Day that you will always remember--for good or for ill? Inquiring amour-osophersophers want to know!

Poll Results: What were you thinking?!

Alas, I've decided to end the long respite and start a blogging question once per week. Hence, our poll results are in for What was the dumbest thing you ever said?

This last love poll inquired: Have you ever regretted saying something stupid to that special someone? It could have been a first date, it could have been after years of involvement. Most of us have wished we were less free with our speech at times. When was yours?

Most of us out there confessed to there is something to be said about being too honest, resulting in some not-so-tasty feet for that candle-lit dinner. The majority, 41 percent (5 amour-osophers) admitted, "I made a mistake--I told the truth."

The second largest group made their voices heard (or not-so heard) by officially keeping mum on why they spoke those unretractable words. Three amour-osophers pleaded the fifth (35 percent).

Only two amour-osophers (16 percent) admitted to tripping over their words by trying to impress someone, but doing quite the reverse.

A couple amour-osophers (16 percent) also admitted to saying something stupid in the heat of anger, only to regret what they said once their tempers cooled.

Thanks to Kimchihead and Rybu for admitting some of their past mistakes for the sake of exploring the nature of true love. We amour-osophers out there wish you luck in your pursuits in finding and holding onto that special someone.

Vote Results: When did you realise it was over?

When did you know it was the beginning of the end? Was it like Seinfeld, and the refrigerator rocked a few times? Were you the last to know? Or did you end it on your terms?

When the fat lady sang. 0 votes (0 percent)

When you said it was over. 1 vote (20 percent)

When you got dumped. 1 vote (20 percent)

Gradually--then suddenly. 3 votes (60 percent)

What was the dumbest thing you ever said?

In my formative college years, I once attempted to compliment my boyfriend's . . . errr . . . prowess. (Back story: He was--shall we say--diminutive in a portion of his anatomy.) I told him he was quality over quantity.

Surprise, surprise. He wasn't flattered.