The season of love ... and lotteries?

Ahh, Valentines Day. The season of loooove. The day of hearts and flowers. The moment that pushes Hallmark's revenues into the black and buys luxury cars for divorce lawyers everywhere ....

And here it is again.

As I sat up until midnight, finishing Buzz's 140-million valentines, including three for the teachers and one for the crossing guard, and Valentine's party treats for his Valentines party at school, I had a very un-Valentines revelation.

I am the Grinch of Greeting cards. I am the Scrooge of Sweetheartdom. I am the Snidely Whiplash of Sentimentality.

I don't like Valentines Day -- and I'm not the only one. I posted a blog about it, and most of the responses were less than, well, "hearts and flowers." Even some of the ladies who would be getting those hearts and flowers weren't real excited about it.

"I am so NOT looking forward to my really nice and very expensive assorted plant basket, bear, and chocolate for the 9th year in a row. I know that sounds ungrateful but the plants usually die, the kids eat all the chocolate, and my little ones out grown the bear thing!," wrote "Disgusted." "I would be much happier with a nice card and one of those gas station roses just knowing he didn't sell his other kidney in vain this year..."

"How about getting nothing?" responded "cookie." "When my husband and I first got married, I would get him a nice card and a present. He would always forget it was Valentines Day. I wondered how you could forget something like that, with all the advertising that is done. After years of him forgetting, I stopped giving even a card. I bought one card, and I keep the card in case one of these years, he decides to buy me a Valentine. At that time, he will get the card that I bought years ago."

I'm not really anti-Valentines Day. I'm pro-You Shouldn't Have to Be Told to Tell Someone You Love Them. I think the hardest thing most people (okay -- most men) have to learn is that romance isn't romantic if it has to be forced. Those little gestures of affection -- the cards, the chocolates, the flowers, the jewelry, the Jaguar -- should be given spontaneously as reminders of how much you love your significant other.

"Honey, I just saw these flowers and the blue reminded me of your eyes, so I had to get them for you ..." (Guys -- make sure you get the right eye color, and no, there are no pretty brown flowers. That's when you use the chocolate, as long as you us the words "velvety" and "deep" when you hand the Godivas over.)

I think what I hate the most about Valentines Day isn't the fact that its so commercial. It's always been commercial. Did you know that Valentines' Day is on Feb. 14 because Feb. 15 was the day the ancient Romans celebrated the Feast of the Lupercalia -- when the soldiers got to find out which girl they won in the lottery to take home and marry? In the lottery. We're talking some serious romance, here. I wonder if they had Powerplay choice on the tickets -- draw the winning number with Powerplay and you get twins ...

No, the thing that bothers me the most is that it is so mercenary. I don't think there's a holiday more designed to make women look bad than the one that's supposed to make them feel good. Almost every sitcom will revolve around who didn't get a present for Valentines, whose feelings got hurt, and how soon will they realize that the gifts are meaningless unless there is love blah blah blah. See? I'm even doing it in my column.

Here's some other Valentines tidbits to nibble on as you take off the candy-colored glasses.

* During Medieval times, girls ate unusual foods on Valentines Day to have a dream of their future husband. (They tried this again in the 1960s and 70s, which explains the correlation to magic mushrooms and how Keith Richards, Iggy Pop and Tom Petty managed to get girlfriends.)

* In the Middle Ages, people believed that the first unmarried person of the opposite sex you met on the morning of St. Valentine's Day would become your spouse. (we can only hope it wasn't a family member, or they didn't live across the street from a monastery or a convent.)

* Guess who the first person to declare Valentine's Day an official holiday was?

Henry the Eighth.

Think about it. Henry the Eighth -- the man with six wives. The man with the revolving door built into his wedding chapel, the patron saint of divorce court and syphilis.

But as I read more of the valentines posts on my blog, I realized some people really do get it.

"When my attitude changed and the self pity stopped was one summer on a walk when he struggled through a mess of thorns and pickers to fetch the perfect little wild flower that had caught his eye and gave it to me, explaining not just any flower is good enough, it has to be special," wrote "wonderwhy." "I learned from him that [it's] the unexpected gifts, the ones that we do not expect them to produce, that really matter."

I went back to finishing up Buzz's 140-million Valentine cards, including three for the teachers and one for the crossing guard, and saw one left, sitting away from the others.

"Oh, crud," I thought. "Did I forget to do that one? Which kid did I miss? Which teacher?"

Wearily, I reached over and turned it over.

"To Mom," it said on the envelope.

"I love you," it said inside. "Buzz."

Happy Valentines Day.