Francine adopted a philosophical attitude the moment the stores replaced the Christmas decorations with the Valentine merchandise. Presto! Hearts of red or pink or of polka dots seemed to be everywhere. There were flat hearts, embossed hearts, box hearts. Aisles of greeting cards were awash with Valentines to my beloved, to my sweetheart, to mom, to my ex. Ex? What desperate card writer came up with that idea? Candy counters featured stacks of Valentine chocolates packed, of course, in heart-shaped boxes. Atop cosmetic display cases were bottles of perfume, tubes of shower gels and hand creams. The florists’ phones rang off the hook with orders for everything from mini bouquets to wheelbarrows of red roses. As for the shops that promoted romance’s earthy side, there was lingerie of silk, satin, lace, and engineering marvels of strings attached to small squares of material.
This year there would be no special Valentine for Francine. She who had enjoyed the attention of many admirers was admirer-less. "Like socks," she thought. "They’ve disappeared, just like my socks. A matched pair goes into the wash but only one makes it through the dryer." She was relieved when some swains wandered away and sometimes sad when others did; but when the winnowing out left no potential suitor in the wings, she was philosophical – all through January.
This year there would be no special Valentine for Francine. She who had enjoyed the attention of many admirers was admirer-less. "Like socks," she thought. "They’ve disappeared, just like my socks. A matched pair goes into the wash but only one makes it through the dryer." She was relieved when some swains wandered away and sometimes sad when others did; but when the winnowing out left no potential suitor in the wings, she was philosophical – all through January.
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