GEEK BEAT: The rules of Valentines:

I hate Valentine’s Day.

It’s not for the reasons everyone thinks though.

I’m OK with setting a day aside for romance. I don’t consider it Singles Awareness Day. Even when I was single and deprived of all contact with female human flesh beyond a quick punch to the arm, I was still OK with Valentine’s Day.

I’ve hated it for the last three years because as a newspaper columnist, you’re expected – and this year actually required – to write about Valentine’s Day.

This isn’t so bad at first, but after thinking about love for 30 or more seconds, I start singing to myself, “What’s love got to do, got to do with it?”

And then, I have a horrible realization: I have no idea what love has to do with it.

This on its own shouldn’t be that surprising. I’m a simple man and can’t even say the word asymptote without giggling, so my inability to explain the world’s greatest mystery really shouldn’t be too shocking.

It’s still frustrating for me because this is one of those things I kind of assumed I would figure out when I got married and yet, still nothing.

I’ll have to go take another look at those equations.

I think my problem comes largely from the fact that I learned pretty much everything I know about life from the “Star Wars” movies.

All I got about the game of love is don’t kiss your sister and don’t date a princess.

Actually, pretty much everything I’ve ever seen suggests you avoid dating princesses in general. Sooner or later, they’re going to get kidnapped and you’ll have to save them.

Look at poor Mario – how many times has he had to save his princess? A lot more than it’s worth, I can assure you. No one is that good of a kisser.

I’m sure some of you heavily smitten people out there are thinking, “I’d travel the whole world for my love.”

I’m sure right now, you’re pretty convinced that you would. All I’m saying is by the time you get to level 5, you might be thinking real hard about a few of your other options.

And a special note to my wife: Honey, I love you, but if you keep getting kidnapped by the exact same dragon, after the third or fourth time, you’re going to be on your own.

I mean, learn to lock the door or something.

Now I’m sure some of you will say I’m not a romantic person. You could also accuse me of not being a good dancer and be equally right. I only claim to be things that I am. Like a ninja.

Just like my chronic fear of dodge balls and my total confusion about where the “i” goes in relation to the “e”, I blame this entirely on the American public education.

Every year in February, rather than sit us kids down and explain to us what love is and how we can use it to our advantage, the teachers would give us a party.

Not just any party, a very well-structured and platonic party.

Unlike real-world love, these parties had very strict rules.

Rule No. 1: You had to give everyone a Valentine, even if you didn’t like them or in my case didn’t know their name (I got many-a-Valentine addressed to “Hey dude”).

Rule No. 2: Every Valentine had to have a cartoon character of some kind working the word “Valentine” into their catch phrase like Spiderman saying he’s my “Friendly neighborhood Valentine” or Fred Flintstone exclaiming “Yabba-Dabba-Valentine.”

Rule No. 3: Every Valentine had to have candy. I wish the rule had been that you had to put good candy in. I remember choking down two or three pounds of those stupid, chalky hearts that the poor kids gave out.

The basic message I got from these parties was “everyone will love you, but no one will mean it.”

Add this to the fact that I was on the best sugar high since Halloween surrounded by images of naked babies armed with bows and arrows, and it’s a wonder I understand as much about love as I do.

Geek on.

Steve Shinney is a senior in computer science with the relationship IQ of an 8-year-old. X-Men themed Valentines can be sent to him at steveshinney@cc.usu.edu.