Thanks for this. I’d always been under the impression that the Valentine’s Day card was the opportunity to declare, anonymously, the undying love and affection which would be the stuff of scandal, of tongues set wagging, were it declared on any other day of the year.
Am I sending such a message this year?
Why – blush – that would be telling!
I thought the Victorians began the tradition with their sentimental, flowery, lacy, and cupid adorned cards:
The couple meets at a soiree where the fine lady’s heart beats like a caged canary. The gentleman wears gloves and even with them worries he’ll leave a thumbprint on the greeting card. He escorts her to a small chamber not far from the ballroom. Her cheeks flush with the touch of his warm hand on her back. It sends a thrill of which she is not accustomed. He pulls the declaration of love from his breast pocket and presents it with a bow. She smiles, rips it open and gasps when she sees two naked cupids complete with jiggly bits dancing in the sky. Underneath are the words…
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