It should come as no surprise to anyone that the creator of the modern Valentine’s Day was a woman.

It may be more surprising, though, that she never married. No, Esther Howland died single but rich from the money that poured into her father’s stationery store after she cleverly thought of mass-producing Valentine’s cards in 1847.

Esther would likely have been proud to learn that the tired, the alone, the unbethrothed masses have created Single Awareness Day as an alternative to the sweet, pink togetherness that abounds on Feb. 14. This gives people a reason to call out “Happy SAD” to other loners. Apparently, this brings a smile to their faces, although the cutesy phrase makes me about as sick as one of those side-burned gorillas that sings “Love Me Tender” when you push a part of its plush anatomy that, trust me, you would not poke if it were real.

As of yet, no one has created a Happy SAD greeting card, but give it time. The purpose of the holiday, after all, is sales. Oh, and giving men a way to get out of whatever doghouse they’ve crawled into and women an excuse to substitute chocolate for that ever-present, low-cal drinkable lunch.

I know what you’re thinking. As a single mom, I am suffering from sour grapes (or wilted flowers, or unfermented wine…whatever).

Really, I have nothing against Valentine’s Day, and just so you know, I did have plans Thursday night: I lit a roaring, romantic fire in the fireplace and slithered into a low-cut satin top. Then I vacuumed and washed two loads of laundry. After that, I sang, “Luvey’s all you need” (think Beatles tune) to my cat Luvey and ate chocolate I purchased myself until I felt sick enough to go to bed early and watch old musicals on Turner Classic Movies. It doesn’t get any better than that.

It just seems that setting aside one day each year to treat your loved one in a special way is along the same lines as having to ask a man to tell you he loves you or buying your own engagement ring.

And it is a little odd that the same holiday celebrated by some with a Spider-Man card that reads, “I’m in a tangle over you” is observed by others with a gift of a red-lace, thong teddy.

I’m just sayin.’

The paradoxical holiday also can turn dark for women expecting to get a call from a certain someone who, it turns out, stayed home to watch the game on his 60-inch flat screen which, it turns out, he loves enough to list as his next of kin. And then there are those men who were not in the doghouse pre-Valentine’s but who wind up there simply because love, to them, was exemplified by a set of can-slicing, hammer-impervious Ronco steak knives.

With all this confusion, it’s no wonder the new Valentine’s motto is “Happy SAD.”

Maybe, next year, we should all spend the night singing to our cats and watching musicals. Give me a call and together we’ll ignore Valentine’s Day — unless some hot guy calls and asks me to dinner at Dolce.

I’m just sayin.’