Seven years ago, in a smoke-less San Francisco bar, a unique friendship was forged. I was training for my first California AIDS Ride and Emily was my ride ambassador, the person who would help me reach my goals of both training and fundraising. Slut-girl(tm) was another member of the staff putting on the ride.

Slut-girl(tm) showed up to the bar, a crest-fallen Emily in tow. As Slut-girl(tm) steered Emily to the bar, she stopped to say hello to me and shared the news that Emily had been dumped earlier that day by her hateful, evil boyfriend and had enlisted our help to liven her spirits.

Earlier in the day, while at work, my colleague provided the entire office with those little candy hearts with witty, love-filled words imprinted on them. A large bag of them for each person in the office.

Sitting in the bar, wearing the same coat I’d worn to work, containing the bag of candied love messages, I looked for a way to lift her spirits. Remembering the bag, I extracted it from my jacket pocket and offered a hand full too Emily. She weakly smiled and I knew I was on to something.

In addition to this drama, there was love lust in the air. Pool-boy(tm) was in his usual place at the billiards table looking specifically delicious. Ah Pool-boy(tm), lets have a moment of silence for Pool-boy(tm).

As the drink worked its magic on my ego, I worked up the nerve to approach Pool-boy(tm) and talk to him, but at the last minute, I lost my words, and pulled out a candy heart to speak for me. I placed the heart on the pool table in front of him and slipped back to Emily’s side at the bar. He smiled in my direction and came to talk to me. He didn’t like the word on his heart and reached into the bag to pick out a more appropriate piece. I don’t remember what that heart said, but it was much more appropriate than the previous piece, and it showed that he was interested in me too.

As the night played out, there were many more trips to the candy bag and many more hearts passed between Pool-boy(tm) and I.

Then, things got ugly. Pool-boy(tm) started displaying affection towards another man. Drunk with both alcohol and jealousy, I retrieved his carefully chosen candy heart and threw it at him. I grabbed another from the pile on the bar and threw that as well. Emily’s spirits were lifted by my antics and joined in with the throwing of candy hearts. Soon it was all out war as we joyously pelted anybody that looked happy. Others joined in and a tradition was born.

Now, every February 13th, my little circle of friends carry on the tradition in our own ways, pelting strangers, loved ones, and friends with little candy tokens of love.

So be warned. If you look happy near me on February 13th, you better have cat-like reflexes or you’ll be feeling the sting of my feelings about this holiday in the convenient carrying case of a candied heart.