It’s a brave claim, but I’ll make it anyway: ladies and gentlemen, I have found the cure for Valentine’s Day.

No longer shall we be obligated to buy overpriced and embarrassingly sentimental Hallmark cards, or weirdly cute and alien-like stuffed animals bearing messages of undying love.

Never again shall the men of today go through the overwhelming torture of selecting one of 50 potential pieces of jewelry for their girlfriend, only to resort to a blind stab in the dark, usually involving the piece that looks the most expensive.

Moreover, ladies, fear not – a feigned smile and nod of forced approval shall never again be required in accepting another I-can’t-believe-he-thought-this-was-me gift.

And for all my fellow single ladies and fellas out there, flying solo on V-Day will no longer result in the excessive consumption of alcohol, chocolate and chick flicks.

I give you… the spark.

Also known as “butterflies in the stomach,” the spark is the tingling sensation that you get all over your body from a glance at that certain stranger.

The spark is the all-consuming delight in seeing “text received” with their name light up on your phone.

As a woman, the spark overrides common sense and makes us read salacious articles in Cosmopolitan that boast, “A better butt in 2 weeks” and “10 signs to know he’s into you.” 

As for men, I’m assuming it explains the googly eyes that, even though your buddies point it out, you are unwilling to admit to.

Plainly put, the spark is a sudden intrigue in another person, whether you know them well or not. It is not necessarily mutual, nor does it have to be officially recognized.

The spark is not “love at first sight,” and doesn’t necessarily mean lust. The spark is just that: a spark.

Imagine a bleak Monday morning: it’s 8:35 a.m., and you’ve just sped through the front doors of Centennial Hall at the University of Winnipeg. Class begins at 8:30 a.m. in Lockhart. Time is of the essence.

The hallways are near empty as everyone else’s alarm must have been set properly this morning (of course), except for one other lone figure. 

At first, this person is of no interest – until you realize who they are.

Holy hotness, how is it possible one person can look so good on a Monday morning?

Priorities have suddenly shifted. Class isn’t so important, but trying to slow down time suddenly is.

Just to gaze at this beautiful stranger for at least a little while longer. As you draw nearer, you are hard-pressed to maintain composure and keep from melting to the ground into a puddle of ooze.

Your knees are now officially jelly. As they pass beside you, you are positive that they glanced your way. Damn. Thank you Monday.

As you reach the door to your class, it is now 8:37 a.m. The feeling remains. Being late has never been more perfect.

So this Valentine’s Day, rather than resorting to swearing off love and all its complications and consumerism, take comfort in the simplicity of your spark.

In addition to the wonderfully warm feeling in the pit of your stomach when it comes about, the spark will never forget to call you back.

It will never play mind games with you, nor leave you guessing as to whether or not that illusive date will actually come into existence.

The spark exists for your own enjoyment. I won’t lie to you and promise that it is a testament to some great romance that is yet to happen. That’s not it at all.

In reality, the spark may exist for you and you alone and hold no truth to the other person.

This entire fabrication of unrequited love may very well be some sick ploy of your own brain. But that’s okay. Whether it’s on a Monday morning or across the pub on a Saturday night, the spark is a great thing.

It will never demand an expensive gift, or ask how you’re feeling. It’s simple, it’s secret and it’s free.

And that’s the beauty of the spark.

Victoria King is a first-year student at the University of Winnipeg.

Published in Volume 65, Number 17 of The Uniter (January 27, 2011)