All I have to say about a day named after a 3rd century saint is: What's the big deal?

Today is my day and I'm doing with it what I want. I'm not letting anyone tell me to feel bad about being single on Feb. 14.

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Sure, they -- whoever they are -- have been selling Valentine's Day for months now, telling me to share my love and make someone mine. I've even been told to eat cake. A TV ad for an ice cream company features a woman who falls in love with cake through a bakery window, learning that it's OK to eat cake even if she doesn't have a valentine. Eating a whole cake by oneself sounds rather depressing.

While I'm not opposed to eating sweets or sharing love, I'm not up for feeling bad about not having a valentine. Members of the anti-valentine sect say the card companies are evil. I say they're just trying to make money, and they're not fooling me. I know that love can't be bought or sold. It takes much more than a box of chocolates to get a permanent spot on my dance card.

As my single friend Jack points out, Valentine's Day is a couple's holiday. If you don't have someone, then it's just a day in February where you happen to see more pink and red than usual. It's not a day to lash out because you haven't found love.

But what about the flowers and cards that keep piling up on my cubemate's desk, blocking my view of the hot guy at the copier? It's bad enough that she's reminding me of my singledom, now it seems that she wants to keep me single.

Not that it's easy to be single on a lovers' holiday. In fact, it can be quite painful. But it's not about us versus them. Maybe my cubemate gets a kick out of flaunting her store-bought love, and maybe I'd do the same. I can't say I'd mind some flowers, but an e-card from a friend is enough to make me smile, especially if it's like the one I just received where a cute, fuzzy bunny-type creature opens a valentine only to die from paper cuts. Cute, huh?

I'd like to think there are other single people who keep a level-headed perspective on Valentine's Day, who don't dwell on the fact that they didn't get a Hallmark card from someone other than a blood relative. Valentine's Day doesn't have to be about terrorizing couples who may or may not be right for each other, and it doesn't have to be a day where an apartment becomes a dark lair safe from the light of love.

No matter what I say about not caring about Cupid shooting everyone with arrows, I still can't help but enjoy the festive nature of it all. Maybe I'm just a sucker for minor holidays and the tacky decorations they bring.

My enjoyment of Feb. 14 is about memories of simpler times. I associate Valentine's Day with grade school, when life was easy and my biggest responsibilities included coloring in the lines and remembering my milk money.

Back then, it was fun to make valentines in place of practicing phonics, dropping them in the decorated bag at each classmate's desk. There was no pressure to find a date or buy an obligatory present for your sweetheart. My biggest worry, if you could call it that, was whether a certain blonde boy (always did have a thing for blondes, it seems) would send one my way. And if he didn't, it didn't really matter, because I would get plenty more from others.

As I've grown up, it's gotten trickier. I think the real problem is that a holiday that should be light and fun has become obnoxious. If you're alone, you're told to find someone. If you're attached, you're told to be romantic and find the right gift. No thanks, I say.

So this Valentine's Day I'm reclaiming this minor holiday I once held so dear. Maybe I'll go out with friends. Maybe I'll stay in. Either way, just don't give me a hard time for wearing red. It happens to look good on me.

Laura Lewis is an adventurous 20-something who knows how to make the most of being single. Her column appears every other Thursday.