Paging Romeo.  Oh, Romeo, can you hear the knocking?  Louder now, ROMEO!  Where for art thou, Romeo?  Dude, are you listening?

Fine.  Be that way!  Just ignore the centuries of pleas, cries,  and desperate yearnings of countless women whose hearts you’ve surely broken.  If it weren’t for you, dear Romeo, then where do you suppose our lust for romance came from?

What’s that?  Excuse me, come again?  Oh, you’re blaming St. Valentine, is that it?  Are you saying it’s his fault that all of us fair maidens, even the fairest of them all, crave the same, the roses and chocolates, the candles and poetry?

Wait a second.  Pause here. Is it Romeo’s fault, or even St. Valentine’s, that Febuary 14th can seem like some kind of romantic pergatory for the best of us gals?  Some kind of lacey red netherland, where we realize, intellectually of course, that fairy tales don’t exist, there are no knights in shining armor, and that well, if we want a happily ever after, then we’re just going to have to dive in and create it along the way.

Sorry.  I’m hearing buzz again in the background.  Quiet on the set.  Whoever it is, making that noise, come forward please.  Now! 

Excuse me ladies, let me take off my rose colored glasses so I can see who it is.  Well, lookie here!  I do believe it’s Prince Charming, right here in living color, offering up his defense.

Louder Prince C.  We all want to hear your side.  What’s that you say?  You never signed up for this job?  What do you mean, you were just some lad on a horse, having a little fun, riding through the forest?  It’s not your fault that maybe you hadn’t been to the barber in a while, and your long flowing locks were cascading down your back.  And you weren’t trying to seduce anyone with your manly defined chest by keeping your shirt unbuttoned, exposing your masculine pecs.  It was simply hot that day, as you were riding off into the sunset, with your hair, your chest, you riding bareback. 

So okay.  Let’s review.  Romeo says don’t blame him.  And maybe that’s fair since he’s really just a figment of Shakespeare’s cursed imagination, and none of us can ever really remember having a crush on Shakespeare.  Okay, check off Romeo.  Well, who stirred the pot then, Don Juan?  And regarding St. Valentine,  did he really set out to be a heartbreaker?  Or was he simply a do good-er, not unlike Robin Hood, only with romance, rather than cash.

And Prince Charming?  Well, we’ve got his number also.  It’s up to us ladies.  Face it.  For better or worse, we (heart) Valentine’s day more than most men do.  Much, much more.  I happen to be married to a man who’s last name is Love, believe it or not.  And some days, not all, I tell him - ‘Hey Romeo, you’re actually living up to your name.’