A great day for singles

Whiling away a few hours in the card aisle at the drugstore, I noticed there was a section labeled “Valentine/Romance” -- and a completely different one marked “Valentine/Wife.”

And you wondered why Valentine’s Day is often more fun for singles than for couples? There is an old-fashioned innocence to this holiday, an aura of anticipation, of secrets and surprises. If you’re single, the world’s your oyster; the possibilities are endless.

On the other hand, Valentine’s Day can be a tense time for couples as they negotiate the minefield of card shopping and gift selection. Some people, particularly those lacking a Y chromosome, tend to read a great deal of meaning into what they receive and are easily disappointed. By an unfortunate coincidence, individuals who possess that Y chromosome sometimes fail to grasp the importance of the holiday, and have actually been known to forget about it altogether until the last possible moment.

“Huh. Look at all those heart-shaped boxes of chocolate in that store window. When is Valentine’s Day, anyway? Hmm, let’s see. Today’s the ... omigosh!”

(Whereas a woman in solitary confinement in Siberia, with no access to a calendar, will still wake up on Feb. 14 thinking, “I hope I get roses!”)

The gifts themselves can be problematic. For example, in L.A. the mental process involved in eating a single piece of chocolate goes something like this:

“Ooh, milk versus dark. Which should I try first? This is such a romantic present. He must really love me. I think I’ll have the milk chocolate. (Sigh.) Wait, is chocolate saturated fat or polyunsaturated? I wonder how many grams are in one piece. Where’s the nutritional information? Oh, that figures -- they printed it on the bottom so nobody could ... wait, let me just see if I can ... oh, no, all the chocolate fell on the floor! I can’t believe this. Oh well, the floor’s pretty clean. I’ll just try this one. Mmm. Yuk! Is that a cat hair? Phhftft! You know, this chocolate isn’t even that great. I wonder where he got it. (Big sigh.) And now I’ll have to do an extra hour of Pilates.”

Two gifts that are often given to men have trouble written all over them: the Swiss Army knife and its cousin, the Leatherman. Both unfold to display a collection of cute miniature tools, and certainly convey a romantic macho-yet-cool sensibility. The problem is that some of the higher-end models come with at least one mystery gadget that nobody can identify, and this is a big worry for the valentine when he is framing his thank you to the giver. “What do I say to her? I have no idea what this thing is for. Could it be a can opener? But what does this blade do -- ow!”

Singles are spared such concerns, and are free to wander carefree through the holiday, with the sweet knowledge that everything is ahead of them, that anything can happen.

Perhaps the essence of Valentine’s Day is in the sheer, uncomplicated excitement we all experienced as third-graders, when everybody brought valentines to school -- those little flat ones with pictures of (depending on how old you are now) cowboys and ballerinas, or Big Bird and Strawberry Shortcake. We each took home a bagful.

The day sparkled with possibilities.

And we were all single.

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Leni Fleming can be reached at weekend@latimes.com.