The woman in line ahead of me at the grocery store was talking to the clerk. “It’s not a real holiday,” she said. “It’s all about marketing.”

“Oh, I know,” the clerk said. “My husband and I never give each other anything.”

“And the cards,” the customer said. “They’re ridiculous. And so expensive.”

“I agree,” the clerk said. “I just print something up on the computer.”

“And all this emphasis on candy and chocolate and all the things we shouldn’t be eating these days. Awful.”

“Just awful.”

The customer grabbed her bag and headed for the door after a quick nod of thanks to the clerk. And I put my box of French chocolate truffles and Valentine card on the conveyor belt. Sigh.

Look, I know there’s a certain logic to what the customer and the clerk were saying. I get annoyed too over the number of holidays that seem to have mandatory gifts attached. But here’s the thing—I’m a romance writer. The idea of a holiday dedicated to love strikes me as lovely.

Think about it. Most holidays are dedicated to somewhat solemn events, even though we may turn them into more lighthearted celebrations on our own (Easter egg hunts, anyone?). But Valentine’s Day is all about telling somebody you care. Yes, it’s sort of depressing if you’re between relationships, but even then there are usually people in your life you care about enough to reach out to. It’s good to have at least one holiday where you’re thinking about love and everything that goes along with it, particularly in a time like this when it’s all too easy to forget about hearts and flowers.

So yeah, I bought chocolate truffles. And a sort of schmaltzy Valentine’s card. But my hubs and I have been married for a long time. I’m glad I’ve got a day to remind him why we’re still together.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all. Read a romance and eat a truffle for me.