The Beatles crooned it best, “Love, love, love….”

Although I am a sappy romantic deep down, I rarely like to let on that I am. Not letting on allows me to keep my barriers up and avoid getting hurt.

In high school, girls would anticipate the coveted carnations sent from sources fawning over them during homeroom on Valentine’s Day. I never got one. I was never bitter about not receiving one, nor wished I did get one.

Girls would walk down the corridors adorning red and pink accessories and carrying their stuffed animals, balloons and flowers from that week’s fling. I wrote them off as tokens of a guy’s “love” for them for that one day.

To this day, I’ve always withheld the philosophy that two people’s love for one another should be displayed and shown in little ways each and every day and not just once a year in a big way.

One day should not echo your quantity of affection toward your loved one.

People deem me a skeptic or a cynic or say I have these opinions toward the “holiday” because I am single. This however is not true in any sense of those accusations.

I just happen to find Valentine’s Day and Sweetest Day to be a collaborative effort from card companies, florists, jewelers, chocolatiers and restaurants to gain extra income between the slow parts of the year. It’s all a farce.

I don’t get what all of the hype is about.

Life is too short to wait to tell someone you love them once a year. Tell your special person every day. Celebrate it. Embrace it. In the end, the little things count more