What's love got to do with it?

This past winter break, I was busy eating my way across the United States or off being awed by Oman (which is still there, btw, waiting for you to take that dream vacation you will have if you go). I didn't have time for a pithy blog about the presence of Christmas trees, little gingerbread villages and genuine, white-bearded Santas that appeared everywhere in the UAE, your friendly neighborhood 99.9% Muslim country. Sure, expats hold down a huge percentage of the population, but this isn't a nation that hides its religious identity. The call to prayer sounds everywhere, five times a day, and don't even think about eating in public during Ramadan, regardless of where you're from. So, I found it a little odd this December that there was exactly one place in town to buy bacon, but countless opportunities to purchase cheesy plastic Nativity scenes with every character (including the camel) in a garishly molded bow to the Baby J.

It's the same thing with Valentine's Day. From the heart-shaped pendants fluttering from lamp posts to the sunset silouettes of cuddling lovers on countless displays, you would never guess this is a culture where most marriages are arranged and anything beyond hand holding in public is a potentially jailable offense. If I were an Emerati girl, I would be a bit confused. Should I long for my prince (sheikh?) to arrive on a white horse holding a fez-wearing teddy bear and a heart-shaped mylar balloon declaring Be Mine? It's one thing for us to roll our eyes at the bald commercialism of Valentine's Day. We grow up negotiating our own crushes and painfully working our way through the heartbreaks and lessons-learned from romantic encounters. We understand that "I Luv U" on a chalky heart does not a relationship make. But how does it look to sheltered girls, who rarely meet a man who is not a member of their family until they are about to marry? And then it's back to the family, in-laws now included.

Of course, despite this very real situation, girls are surely more sophisticated than I give them credit for, and feel no conflict gliding by big boxes of chocolate and the mooney-eyed cardboard couple flirting with each other (and legal prosecution) at the entrance to the supermarket. Maybe they tell themselves the same thing they do at Christmas time: this is just what we find in the stores right now. We see lots of things in public that we only use in private, like tank tops and earrings--and valentines. I'd like to ask an Emerati girl, but I don't know any. I'd like to know if they are sewing red sparkly hearts on their abeyyas and hoping for a secret admirer, or coolly shrugging off the latest annually imported craze. If you have any ideas, let me know...