Unlucky in Love

Unlucky in Love
Rachel Birdsell

Rachel Birdsell

Valentine’s Day is soon approaching, and with it comes much anticipation by those who find it endearing. But, it also comes with much eye-rolling, and heavy sighing by those of us who don’t. Even as a coupled person, I’m not enamored with the idea. It meant a lot more to me when I was in elementary school decorating old shoe boxes with pink and red construction paper hearts, so said boxes could be stuffed with Valentines that had punny sentiments on them.

So, while most years find me trying to sail past February 14th without giving it even a slight nod, this year I will actually be stopping right before I get to it. And that will be so I can pay homage to one of the days I love the best. This day can take the chill out of the coldest winter air, and can melt foot-deep snow. It can fill me with more love than a box of Valentines – even ones that have corny puns on them.

The day is Friday the 13th,and it falls deliciously right before Valentine’s Day this year. I know I’m supposed to cower in fear at the date. Lore teaches us that we shouldn’t even want to leave the house, because horrible things can happen on Friday the 13th. Of course, most of us have pooh-poohed the thought that the day puts us at greater risk of getting stampeded by a herd of wild muskrats than any other day, but how many of us have embraced the day? I think we should not only embrace it, but we should celebrate it, and I’ve taken it upon myself to plan it. Kind of.

Since February the 14th has its own patron saint, I tried finding a suitable saint for Friday the 13th, but to be honest, they’re all pretty boring. Sure, there’s Eustochium, who was a bastard, and as tempting as it is to have a bastard as the patron saint of our new celebration, I could just use someone I know for that, as I happen to know more than one or two bastards. Besides, Eustochium isn’t even an honest-to-god saint, yet. He’s a saint in the making, and even though the poor guy has been dead for awhile, whoever decides when one gets to become a saint, is still dragging their feet on getting Eustochium canonized.

So, we have no patron saint, but maybe we could have a symbol for our celebration. What about a black cat? Black cats are synonymous with Friday the 13th, I adore them, and some people still think they’re of the devil. I think a demonic black cat is the perfect symbol for our celebration.

We can keep the Valentine’s Day tradition of getting chocolate, because it’s chocolate. But, we don’t have to give any other gifts or cards, and certainly not a dozen roses that cost more than the gross national product of a small European country. In fact, let’s just have black cats, chocolate and lots of drinking of whatever beverage wets your whistle, blows your skirt up or tickles your fancy. And if you can find one that does all three, please send me the recipe.

Rachel Birdsell is a freelance writer and graphic artist. You can reach her at rabirdsell@gmail.com

Categories: Commentary