Love, Love, Love
I have never had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.
I have never had flowers delivered to my office.
I have never been gifted a bear that is twice as large as I am.
I have never been whisked away to a romantic, candlelit dinner involving seafood and goony gazing at each other.
And I have never had a bad Valentine’s Day.
In fact, I would say my Valentine’s Days have always been rather excellent.
In elementary school, I somehow had a three or four year streak where I managed to injure myself in gym class nearly every Valentine’s Day. (I was clumsy…okay, I’m still clumsy.) However, my sprained fingers and twisted ankles always faded away in the bliss of Snoopy valentines and cherry, heart-shaped suckers. I loved giving valentines to all my friends and, even more, I think, to the kids who other kids seemed to snub. The weird, smelly kids whose parents couldn’t afford the fancy Barbie valentines — I always wanted to make sure that they got valentines too and that they had fun. I was shy, so I didn’t usually say much. I just took extra care in printing their name neatly on my Little Mermaid valentines, sometimes adding a note that I thought they were great. I hated the idea of anyone being left out simply because the rest of the world didn’t seem to think they deserved to know they were loved.
I took great pride in my “mailbox” each year, pouring hours into it at the kitchen table, littered with conversation hearts and purple paint smudges. I would keep it in my room for weeks.
In high school, my girl friends and I would get together every Valentine’s Day and would buy each other chocolates and roses. We’d have a big sleepover, eat pizza, watch movies and usually go in my parents’ hot tub, giggling till the wee hours about whatever it is 16 year old girls giggle about. None of us ever dated much and we didn’t care: we had way too much fun together.
College and adult life has brought much of the same — time spent with friends, reminding one another how much we love each other, buying silly gifts or seeing movies or splurging on a great pair of shoes. I have never had one valentine; I always have many. And it has never felt like “Single’s Awareness Day” to me.
Tonight, I am cooking an Indian food feast, finishing off with chocolate souffle cupcakes, for me and my friend, Jettie. I am prancing around my apartment, in my positively adorable pink apron, and resting in the most truthiest of truths: I am loved. (And so are you.)
[Photo credit here.]