What I did for love

I was a leatherboy for love, schoolgirl kinks, and other tales of modern romance

The Hallmark/Valentine's/military-industrial complex wants us to think that it has love color-coded. "For you" is a message that comes neatly packaged in pink, red, or diamond. But the truest, rawest expressions of love are the ones that mean nothing to the general public, the ones that could have been created by no one but their creators. Anyone can explain a dozen red roses. Only one lucky girl can explain the highway billboard that says JAB, STAY -- or the guy in smiley-face underpants standing outside her window holding a joint and a bottle of wine.

Risk ridicule -- or jail, or unemployment -- for love, and you're risking far more than physical safety. When you ditch the confines of acceptable behavior for the object of your obsession, you stake your sense of self on the acceptance of one.

Taking that risk, wearing those underpants, can be terrifying. It can be stupid, it can be glorious, it can be all of these things. And as the following exploits -- performed by a handful of Phoenix writers -- prove, it doesn't always work. But when considering the impossible this February 14, remember this: if you bet the farm and then bomb completely, at least you can use the story to impress someone else the next time around.

You can't say that about a dozen red roses.

Where Did Our Love Gogh?
Under Where?
Thank Heaven for Little Girls
Doing the Right Wrong Thing
Aw, Shoot
Submitted for Approval
Liar, Liar
All Night Long
Hello, Sailor
Sign of the Times
Queasy Rider
Tripping the Lights
Bar Fright
Circles of Love