Meanwhile, over on Salon, Rebecca Traister admits that she was single on eighteen consecutive Valentine's Days. Traister says she had to endure the following comment from a friend who was devastated her man would be out of town on the holiday: "I'll know I have a boyfriend, but I'll feel so pathetic when all the women in my office are getting ready to go out for dinner and it'll look like I have nothing to do!" HA! Fuck that.

So yeah, if you're single you may feel like this day shines a giant muthaluvin' spotlight on the empty space next to you. Or you may feel like everyone else around you are blissfully idiotic sheep, bleating meaningless words as they fuel the commercialized bullshit holiday based on some early Christian martyr and seized upon by possibly murderous diamond corporations and the pesticide-rich cut flower industry. So what do you do? Do you see it as just a day to treat yourself nicely? Some cheapo sparkly jewelry, a film set in another century, [Uh, what about 'Lost'??? -Ed.] some wine, some ice cream? Or do you rage against the machine?

Will You Be My Anti-Valentine? [NY Times]
'The Last Single Woman' Tells Why She Is Perfectly Content [USA Today]
Of Valentine's Jinxes And Packaged Gnocchi [Salon]

French men will just give you The Eye, and Frenchwomen respond. "Frenchmen still know that an admiring look flatters a woman and gives them pleasure," explains an editor named Christine. Australian guys tend to rely on booze; one guy explains, "If you're sitting there at a barbecue, and you've got a beer, a girl's drinking the exact same drink, well then you've got something in common just to start up with." Romantic!

As for American men, writer Chris Ayres claims there are three stages of seduction: "A conversation, a phone number, and then a date. Strategy, planning and execution." Cold and calculating, but sweet? No matter the country or method, why does this age-old topic (picking up women) refuse to die? Are men really so clueless? Is this why we have people like Mystery? Clearly men around the world are meeting women — we're not suffering from a population shortage. But how come they're all convinced they don't know what the hell to say? (Also, what's the worst line you've ever heard? Personally, I love when a guy just says, "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn!" like I've literally stepped on his genitals.)

The Best Chat-Up Lines In The World [Times]
Earlier: My Mid-Morning Conversation With VH1's "Mystery"

You know what? I met up with him anyway. We were headed to watch some amateur boxing matches — the Friday Night Fights — and I figured even if he was weird or annoying I'd just focus on the fighters instead. We arranged to meet at a bar first, and he showed up late, greasy-haired, sweaty and reeking of booze. And wearing a leather jacket. Things managed to go downhill from there: "You're so pretty," he said to me as we waited to enter the boxing venue (the basement of a church in uptown Manhattan). "Thank you," I replied. Silence for a moment. Then I started explaining how a friend turned me on to boxing and how it was great to see the swift, badass female kickboxers. "You're like, really pretty," he said again. "You already said that," I reminded him. Once inside, we seated ourselves and he bought beer and hot dogs for us. The first bout began and when the ring girl, clad in a micro mini skirt, made a lap around the ring, four guys sitting in front of us stood up and applauded her. "They love that ring girl," I noted. The boxing resumed. At the next break in action, when the ring girl came back for another lap, the four guys stood to applaud her again. My date also stood. And yelled, "Sit down, ya fucking whore!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked when he sat down. He turned to me, wounded: "She's not prettier than you are," he said by way of explanation. I'm pretty sure I turned my entire body away from him. If I could have moved chairs, I would have; the event was sold out and we were in the middle of a row; I'd have to squeeze past him to get out.

I started scheming a plan of escape: The bathroom? The bar? Before I could get away, he announced that he was headed to the bar, did I want anything? "A beer," I said, and then he asked me to watch his bag while he was gone. I could have left, but it just seemed too cruel, even under the circumstances. I pulled out my cell phone and tried texting and calling friends — but the reception in the basement was so bad I couldn't get through. I considered asking one of the guys in front of me to act like he was a long-lost friend and help me rescue myself and that's when I caught sight of my date, across the room, opening his leather jacket, taking out a bottle of Malibu rum and chugging from it. Stunned, I watched him return to his seat empty-handed. "They're out of beer," he announced. They most certainly were not out of beer, but I'll never know if he was refused service since he was already drunk or if he never attempted to get me a beer. In any case, I made up my mind to leave as soon as the fight in progress was over. The match was between a black guy and a white guy; my date saw me watching intently and asked who I was rooting for. "The black guy," I said, not taking my eyes off of the fighters, refusing to look at him. My date took a deep breath and hollered at the black boxer, "Come on, Cassius Clay!" That was the last straw; I stood and announced I was leaving. My date followed me outside, clueless, asking if I wanted to share a cab. "No, thank you," I said. I never saw him again, though I did receive two voicemails from him the next day. The first? "Sorry if I was a little crazy yesterday, my grandmother died and I might have had a lot to drink." The second: "Hey, I hope you give me another chance and call me back. You're really pretty."

Report: Online Dating's Bad For The Wallet [U.S. News & World Report]

Scientific American turns to Harvard psychologist Steven Pinker, who explains that while lust is driven by testosterone, and commitment fueled by vasopressin and oxytocin, infatuation taps the dopamine system. Thus the obsession, mood swings and intense desire. The key, Pinker says, is to find someone infatuated with you, and not someone who meets your "perfect" checklist. Dr. Pinker doesn't advise women of what to do when they tend to attract homeless, unemployed or otherwise unsuitable trolls, as Ms. Gold (and yours truly!) seem to. What if the person who thinks you're The One is someone think is Mr. Wrong?

My Game Of MANopoly - Does Mr Right Really Exist? [Daily Mail]
Lookin' Crazy in Love [Scientific American]

Once you decide, check out MSNBC, where Brian Alexander has written a confusing piece about sexual compatibility: Find a perfect match with DNA! Couples who are similar are happier! Except when it comes to religion and politics: Similar attitudes in those areas are not good predictors of relationship happiness! (Alexander mentions the time-tested couple Mary Matalin and James Carville). One thing is for sure: Neither Men's Health nor MSNBC know the secret to finding true love. But they want you to think they do, because people are desperate for love advice. Don't we all just live, love and learn? Isn't everyone on his or her own path? Isn't love a mystery which refuses to be solved? Or is it possible to learn how to find The One?
Six Women You Need to Meet [Men's Health]
What's The Secret To Sexual Compatibility? [MSNBC]