Will Ulrich: Two brothers on Thursday

The calendar might tell him that tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day, but my brother Andy refuses to call it anything but Thursday.

Now it's not as if he's opposed to the day because it depresses his single psyche. He has a girlfriend named Jeannette, who -- at least to the naked eye -- is an attractive, fully-functioning human being. What's more, it seems that they share genuine affection for one another.

His healthy relationship aside, Andy just refuses to grant Feb. 14 any significance at all. He won't take Jeannette out to a swanky dinner. He won't buy her a dozen roses. Last year, I don't think he even called her.

My younger brother is a man who sticks to his guns. Although one could make the case that he's really just a horribly cheap, unromantic slob who hides behind a veil of principled protest, he talks a good game.

The following is a redacted version of a rant he prepared for me, summarizing his Al-Bundy-like beliefs:

"Men, we cuddle. We rent movies we really don't want to see. We go to dinner with her parents even though we'd rather sit at home and watch the Classic Sports Network in our underwear.

"For women, this day is the final test of our love. What do we get out of it all?... Take the first step with me. Boycott Valentine's Day."

At its heart, I suppose I agree with some of Andy's critique. Valentine's Day asks that people drop whatever might be bugging them -- illness, stress, a significant other that they just can't stand this week -- and act as if they've just been caught in the rear with one of Cupid's arrows.

That said, I sometimes prefer a nice dinner to watching Bart Starr in my boxers and, more importantly, I know I'll probably never take the step that Andy's taken. I've been around when he discusses his "stance," and I've seen that Jeannette's left eye begins to switch ever so slightly. She's obviously not a true believer.

It's not that I'm a complete pushover. It's just that I know I'd never have the gall (or guts, depending on your politics) to make my girlfriend a fellow traveller on my quest to drive the truffles out of February.

But this shouldn't surprise me: Andy and I, despite being born just nine short months apart, are very different people.

I can be a bit of a curmudgeon, but Andy's more of a real misanthrope. While my idea of a good time might be a small party with the limited set of people who don't annoy me, Andy's ideal would be more like him alone at home watching Patriot Games with two liters of ginger ale in his left hand, the remote in his right and and an ice pack cooling his reclining head.

Back in the old days when we'd find ways to pester my Dad, Andy could always push the envelope. While I'd just chow down on Dad's favorite cake, Andy favored more direct psychological torture. Once he changed Dad's outgoing answering machine message to a version of the theme from Shaft, replacing all of the mentions of "Shaft" with a syncopated "Pete Ulrich."

I think that I'm much more laid-back than he is. He's more careful and cautious than I am, and when he's on, he's got a better 18-foot jump shot.

When I think about all the difference between us, I sometimes have a hard time figuring out how it is that Andy and I -- guys that look pretty similar and grew up in the same house at the same time -- wound up on divergent paths.

Then, I remember it probably has something to do with the fact that we spent the better part of the first half of our lives kicking the crap out of each other.

Despite my parents' best efforts to the contrary, my brother and I competed like rabid dogs when we were younger.

When we'd have a snowball fight, it would invariably degenerate into a fist fight in the snow, complete with eye-gouging and knees to the head.

When we played tennis ball baseball in the alley, our games would sometimes -- often when the elder Irish twin was on the verge of losing -- end early because of a beaning-induced brawl.

As we got older, the vitriol in the rivalry certainly dissipated some. We were friends then, but I think we like each other much more now.

Happy Thursday, Andy.

Will Ulrich is a senior Philosophy major from the Brox, N.Y.

Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The Daily Pennsylvanian.