It’s no secret that I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day. But that’s just because I’m old and bitter. But the secret—and I swear, nobody has figured this out—is that I actually love it. I LOVE it. In theory, anyway. And the good Saint V. has been good to me sometimes, including this year when I was able to find a package of puppy and kitty valentines for a dollar. This gets me thinking of other great Valentine’s Day happenings, thusly:
In elementary school, nothing demonstrates the classroom caste system better than Valentine’s Day. I remember painstakingly sorting my store-bought cards, figuring out which message was most appropriate for each of my classmates. “You’re cute, Valentine” could be socially devastating if it landed in the wrong hands. So I had the ‘friend’ types and the ‘slightly flirty, if you catch my drift’ types. I also did this with conversation hearts. Yes…I sorted individual pieces of candy. I even measured how much candy I would give someone, based on how much I liked them. Call me nerdy; call me OCD; even call me unnecessarily discriminatory, but when you know it’s all downhill after fourth grade, you do what you can to secure your place in childhood society.
As a friend, ok? JUST as a friend.
When I was younger, I was very careful about the types of cards I bought for the occasion. They needed to be cool, but not seem like I was trying to be cool. I would opt for a flower power theme (I was really into the 60s back then) or cards that used smart-sounding quotes (I was also really into thinking I was wicked smart back then). Heaven forbid I arrive late at the grocery and find only Little Mermaid or puppy/kitty cards to choose from. Those were for babies. My taste in cheap, thin-papered sentiment was very sophisticated for one so young. If there were ACDC or Metallica Valentine’s cards for sale in those days, I would have bought them. Ok, fine, I would buy them now too. In a heartbeat. Get it? Heart? Valentine’s Day?! BAM!
Then there was 6th grade. In the absence of cool grocery store options, my best friend and I decided to make our boyfriends something for the special occasion. Jason, my sweetheart, received some sort of doily thing.
Lindsay did much better and made a large folding something for Trent. I was jealous. So was Jason. But the best part was Jason's card for me. It, too, was homemade. I can picture it so clearly: A red heart partially glued on the front to make a flap. Open the heart and you see this:
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
(eyeball) (heart) u
And on the inside? Something along these lines, in careful cursive handwriting:
Dear Stefanie,
I have really enjoyed going out with you. I will always love you.
Love,
Jason
I think of this now, and my heart goes pitter-pat. It really does. It’s just so cute, this naïve declaration of 12-year-old love. But back then? I was endowed with far too much self-awareness at that age, with irony and cynicism that overrode anything young and blissful about me. I recognized right then and there that this was sweet, but that he couldn’t possibly really love me because we were too young. LAME. I held onto the Valentine for awhile but then I threw it away out of embarrassment. My regrets in life are few, but that is one of them. Do you think he still loves me? I mean, he said "always," right?
In junior high, all the girls would buy the flowers they sold at school for their best friends. And thus began the long-term coping strategy of substituting girl friends for boys in the absence of the latter. Where would girls be without girls?
One freak year in highschool I got roses from 2 different boys. That’s tough to beat.
Every year my mom makes my dad a giant (like, entire cookie sheet giant) heart-shaped cookie for the occasion. Don’t disappoint me this year with some silly diet, Mom! Anyway, this is a tradition I want to continue with my husband. (Please, please let me have a husband some day so I can make him a giant cookie. Amen.). I’m not sure why, but I love that so much. Something about the stability of the giant cookie warms my heart. Get it?!
Ok, enough of the past. Let’s talk about now. In Cupid’s name, I declare passionate love for the following:
Brandon Flowers of The Killers
The song “Cry To Me” by Solomon Burke
Heart-shaped stickers
My $5, deep-throat chair
Red hots
My bike
Those times when I can’t stop dancing and I go into another world
The sunny beach
Mail
My rooftop
Cooking--I love nothing more than an evening where I have the time to just be in the kitchen cooking something.
I also love (though not ‘passionately’ because that’s weird. Perhaps…’ardently’)
My family
My friends
My gospel
My country
My HB house
My capacity to love
Happy V-day, everybody. I hope you found your way to express it to those you love!
.JPG)