One Guy's Countdown to February 14

For the most part, men don’t have a problem with Valentine’s Day. We aren’t the ones who send “hilarious” mass e-mails about Singles Awareness Day or sport “ironic” black armbands on February 14. That’s not to say we’re 100 percent cool with it: Like a girlfriend’s birthday or an anniversary, Valentine’s Day is a day of grim panic, something to subconsciously block out until the last minute. While working on this piece, I asked a friend of mine—a good guy, somebody with a real job, a house, and a solid two-year relationship—what he was planning on doing for his girlfriend on Valentine’s day.

“Are you kidding? I haven’t even started thinking about Christmas,” he replied.

This was on December 22.

Is it any surprise women dread this holiday?

In the spirit of full disclosure, I have my own V-Day issues. Last year, I split with my one true love on St. Valentine’s Day. Whoops. So for a year, I’ve been researching, scheming, and planning my return to Cupid’s good graces. I don’t know if the plan I’ve created assures personal redemption, but I guarantee it’s an improvement on anything you gentlemen have in mind.

I don’t like revealing my sources, but first, pick up a copy of Ovid’s The Art of Love. Yes, for yourself. Penguin has a good paperback for $14. Most literature from the last fifty years has been ruined by political correctness. The modern-day artist is fantastic when it comes to critiquing our dehumanizing consumer society, but if you need advice on things women care about—love, power, cosmetics—the further back, the better. In Ovid’s case, around 1 BC.

Ovid said, “Set a black mark against any day when you have to buy presents.” That means you’re going to have to get her something, but not something grandiose. Maybe a small box of Godiva truffles ($6 at Macy’s) or a rose. Cliché, sure, but who are we to fight 2,500 years of civilization? In fact, if you’re with a girl who fancies herself a cultured intellectual, give her a “meaningful” book, with a thoughtful, personal inscription inside. As Ovid says, “a bravura declamation, even of trash—this will suffice to win their approval.” You can even inscribe your Ovid after you’ve read it.

Finally, avoid making reservations at a fancy restaurant. If you’ve waited until the last minute, you will be eating at either 5 p.m. or 10 p.m. anyway, just in time to admire the procession of suck-ups (reservations made well in advance) parading through the dining room. Take her to a classy bar, someplace dark where she’ll look great and feel comfortable, such as the Capital Grille or La Belle Vie. Feign a lost appetite and order too much wine. And while you’re talking and drinking, make plenty of compliments—her hair, her neck—and even more important, plenty of promises. As the Big O writes, in language we can all understand, “a present withheld breeds expectations; that’s how farmers, so often, are fooled by a barren field, that’s why the inveterate gambler doubles his losses to stave off loss. . . .”

Humpty Dumpty, in Lewis Carroll’s great Through the Looking Glass (the Victorian’s pervy Art of Love, really) gave us the simple math of the un-birthday: 365 –1 = 364. So to really make our strategy work, you’re going to have to start celebrating “Un-Valentine’s Day.” You have the entire year to compliment her long neck, write poetry for her, give her little gifts, and tell her you love her. That way, she won’t even see Valentine’s Day coming.