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Last night, a friend of ours called to welcome me home from California, where I just spent 12 days. Vincent answered the phone, and our friend asked him what he got me for Valentine’s Day. He had no idea that the holiday was nearly upon us and said he hadn’t planned anything special. She warned that he might regret that one of these days, that I might be resentful down the line, but she was wrong. I’m not that kind of girl.

I reassured him, telling him that I’d gotten enough obligation roses in my previous marriage to last me a lifetime. Besides, I don’t do cut flowers anymore. Bad for the environment.

I told him that, while I was in California, every other TV commercial I saw was about Valentine’s Day. Mostly sappy jewelry commercials (no blood diamonds for me either, thank you very much). I explained what a big deal it is in the States and told him that American kids are obligated to exchange valentines in school starting around the time they learn to write their names.

He was shocked.

For those of you who didn’t grow up in America, this is how it works. The teacher sends home a list of the names of kids in the class. Parents take their kids out to buy a box of valentines. Kids sign them and address them to every kid on the list. Then, on Valentine’s Day, the kids distribute them to their classmates and they all sit around for a while eating cupcakes.

Vincent asked, “What if you don’t like someone?”

“Doesn’t matter, everybody gets one,” I said. (I distinctly remember wishing I didn’t have to give valentines to kids I didn’t like. But I gave them the yuckiest ones. Gave the best ones to my friends, the girls I wanted to be friends with, and the boys I liked. I had an agenda, although I doubt I could have articulated it at the time. All very twisted, now that I think about it.)

Vincent’s very French socialist response: “You gotta hand it to your capitalists.”

Yes, they teach us young in America. Most of the people I know dismiss Valentine’s Day as just another Hallmark Holiday (while nonetheless participating in the obligatory rituals associated with it), but I doubt many of them have reflected on how this seemingly benign elementary school practice was actually an insidious indoctrination to capitalist values…

When I was a kid, the valentines you passed out at school looked like these. But by the time my son was being indoctrinated, the merchandising machine had taken over, and all the valentines were themed. Batman, Barbie, My Little Pony… I remember the year he chose Ninja Turtle valentines…

At first glance, you might think school valentine exchanges teach some good lessons: giving, non-discrimination, getting along, participating in shared social rituals… But what we really learned was that you must buy valentines and that you must, in some cases, give without sincerity.

I refuse to play that game. But for weeks, hapless Americans have been pummeled by Valentine’s Day advertising, which has led them to run around buying stuff (one of the things they do best) so that today they can give each other candy, flowers and jewelry with a deeply ingrained sense of obligation and probably some unconscious residual resentment left over from the day they had to give a valentine to some bully or some bitch.

Nothing like a little romance.

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