It’s a little-known fact that St. Valentine  was actually a Catholic bishop who attempted to convert the Roman Emperor in around 269 A.D. This attempt did not go well, and Valentine was stoned and beaten to death with clubs. 2000 years later, we commemorate this joyous occasion with copious amounts of calories (I am willing to bet at least three co-workers bring in baked goods), frustrating pre-fixe menus (but I’d like the foie to start and the salmon as an entree, good sir), and (this one is actually a positive) Valentine’s Day-themed episodes of our favorite TV shows (I mean, did you guys see Parks & Rec? I die).

[Ur Not That Fat]

Cynical as I am, I actually love Valentine’s Day. I love candy (duh). I love presents (double duh). I love romantic comedies (no duh here. That’s bad. I’m ashamed to admit that). I love e-cards (see here)–and I freaking love love. I am even planning on wearing colors within the pink-red-purple range of shades to commemorate the day (in a Moderation-And-Accessories way, not a Cupid-Got-Dumped-Last-Night-Went-Out-And-Threw-Up-All-Over-Me way).

[Left to Right: Rebecca Minkoff Bag, Mulberry Bag, Equipment Blouse #1 & Blouse #2, Opening Ceremony Booties, Gastone Lucioli Booties]

My boyfriend and I are cooking dinner and going out for dessert and cocktails to celebrate the $10.3 billion spent annually in America on Valentine’s Day. Other fun facts: Gifters spend an average of $126 (ladiez, let me know if you need help determining if your hubby’s gift expenditure is up to par), 4 million Americans get engaged on Feb 14 every year (hopefully, at least 2 of them utilize this Vday Pizza Hut Proposal Package), Necco makes 8 BILLION of those shitty little hearts, and signups on AshleyMadison.com, a dating site exclusively for married people, increase 258% on Feb 15 (All fun facts via The Fiscal Times).

In more pleasant news, everything is much cuter today:

[All images via Pinterest. Collage via Polyvore]

Happy Valentine’s Day to you and your loved ones. Go eat some chocolate. Don’t even feel bad about it.

P.S. And none for you, Gretchen Weiners. Bye!