Sometimes I wish my mom didn’t read my blog. Like when I design dirty valentines, for example.

I started blogging one year ago tomorrow on Feb. 12, the eve of the eve of Valentine’s Day, a hollow Hallmark holiday for the smugly coupled that’s dreaded by cat-collecting spinsters worldwide. The title of my first post was “Of the 6,692,030,277 humans on Earth as of 2008, not one wants to share VD with me.”

So much has changed since then.

For starters, there are many more humans on the planet. About 350,000 are born globally every day, and 156,000 die, which means if you multiply both numbers by 365 and then subtract there are now exactly … more-ish people than ever before to sexually reject me. Mathematically speaking.

And yet, with the odds that I am unable to calculate because I’m terrible at math stacked against me, after years of being single this blog recently led me to someone awesome who wants to share VD with me. I mean, Lindsay hasn’t actually given me VD. Yet. The blood tests are pending. But it’s totally the thought that counts. She would pass me VD if she could. It’s not for a lack of trying.

Thanks to her, even though Boston is buried under about 70 inches of snow and I’ve stopped buttoning my jeans to accommodate my winter weight, it’s difficult to be bitter about Valentine’s Day this time around. Which means my blog, like my newfound tail and the world’s population, is evolving. Unless you don’t buy into evolution. Then I’ll try to put it in terms you’ll understand. I’m reaching a turning point akin to the Biblical story of the Garden of Eden in which a loquacious serpent sways Eve, who was created by God from Adam‘s rib, into sinking her teeth into the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Sure, that’s more believable.

AWC 2.0 might be a little lighter on the heartbreak if I play my cards right. Then again, that’s kind of a gamble, because I don’t actually know how to play cards at all.

But I’ve been wanting to start designing cards for a while, so as a way to celebrate our blogiversary, Teva, Isabel and I have whipped up a few mildly offensive valentines just for you.  If your others have lacked significance lately, we hope these will tide you over until you find the one human out of nearly 7 trillion who makes you want to clap for joy. Or who would selflessly give you the clap. Both, if you’re very lucky.

(front above; inside below)

(front above; inside below)

Sorry, Mom.

(front above; inside below)

You’re welcome, kittens.