A few shame-spiral-filled weeks pass and the prodigal blogger returns. My apologies for not giving you a space and reason to play— an especially regrettable fault, since the last nanofiction orgy inspired some of my favorite 55s ever, as you wrote miniature matrimonials for yourself and others.

One-time SM guest-rockstar Cicatrix was two for two with her dead-on impressions of certain boys we know:

Mysterious pajamahadeen, muscular yet partial to velvet, seeks wheatish girl for soulful rocketblogging sessions. Must be fluent in Unix, C++, Perl, DHTML and more. Lissome, long-haired, and bra must match panties at all times. Jewel-toned clothing preferred. Implanted microchips a plus. Come let your airport meet my wifi, as I bathe you in rosewater…my Padma. [link]

Open-minded parents seek adventurous girl for rocket-scientist son. Must have beauty and wiles of Sita to draw son away from this blogging plogging nonsense. Must be outdoorsy since he likes to hanky panky on campsites, hiking trails, zero-G flight simulators, the moon. Must also be ready for a three-way with Paul Krugman should opportunity arise. [link]

Meanwhile, over in the Ewe Kay, Jai was making me (and countless others) swoon…as if that’s novel:

Roguish-but-charming professional North Indian guy seeks equally saucy girl with a good heart for lots of naughty, borderline-illegal fun and potential marriage. Romantic fool at heart, much more sidha than he pretends to be. Woman must be smart, sexy, kind, and look great from all angles in low-rise skinny-fit jeans. No gold-diggers, social-climbers, or neurotics. [link]

Finally, Desi Dude in Austin got a wee bit of snark in at the end of his 55; I sincerely hope he ends up with someone like me, just to make things interesting. 😉

Well educated Indian Boy, likes to read and cook, needs a bad Indian Girl with a taste for bad movies and good wine. Must be willing to put up with disorder and the occasional wild partying. Also, must be able to act coy before in-laws and ridiculously large extended family. Must like MIA only in moderation. [link]

This week? Since I’m an established quirkyalone, I propose a black take on cupid, a scathing flash of fiction about the needless fetishization of couple hood, a snide dissection of the pink holiday which rapidly approaches. Of course you are welcome to write about anything your precious, candy-filled dil desires; kindly leave it or a link to it in the comments below. We’ll heart the results, promise. :+:

Backstory:

The Lupercalia was an annual Roman festival held on February 15 to honour Faunus, god of fertility and forests. Justin Martyr identified Faunus as Lupercus, ‘the one who wards off the wolf’, but his identification is not supported by any earlier classical sources. The festival was celebrated near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine (one of the seven Roman hills), to expiate and purify new life in the Spring. This festival’s origins are older than the founding of Rome.

The religious ceremonies were directed by the Luperci, the “brothers of the wolf”, priests of Faunus, dressed only in a goatskin. During Lupercalia, a dog and two male goats were sacrificed. Two patrician youths were anointed with the blood, which was wiped off with wool soaked in milk, after which they were expected to smile and laugh. The Luperci afterwards dressed themselves in the skins of the sacrificed goats, in imitation of Lupercus, and ran round the Palatine Hill with thongs cut from the skins in their hands. These were called Februa. Girls would line up on their route to receive lashes from these whips. This was supposed to ensure fertility. The name of the month of February is derived from the Latin februare, “to purify” (meant as one of the effects of fever, which has the same linguistic root).

The William Shakespeare play Julius Caesar begins during Lupercalia.

See also: St. Valentine’s Day