Flowers, Chocolate, Hearts, and Beheadings

My feelings on this day of love.

I remember in grade school the horrors of Valentine’s Day for those of us not listed in the Most Popular Girls and Boys notebooks each school-aged gender kept and would giggle over. I was way behind Jackie, Cheryl, and Rita if I made it to the coveted list at all.

We had to decorate paper lunch bags with hearts and our names. Those would be taped to the long thing that held the erasers. Then, we’d walk by at some point with our valentines and pop them into the bags. It seemed SO heartless to me. Because we’d all be eyeing the bags throughout the school day, trying to see if our bag was getting any cards. The less popular kids would get their bags at the end of the day, with one or two from the more generous kids or the teacher. The popular kids, like stupid Jackie and her blonde pigtails, would have overflowing bags. Of course, there were hurt feelings and dashed hopes. I think by sixth grade a rule was made that everyone had to give everyone a valentine. At least, I hope so.

But at least there were cupcakes to soften the blows.

I’m naturally empathetic, so seeing my fellow nerdy kids get almost zip killed me. I don’t remember how I felt; I was too sad for them. But I’m empathetic to a fault. I once gave a bee a funeral, and I didn’t even know that bee. It made me tremendously sad, and I needed to do something. This may or may not have been last year.

Then I grew boobs! Not impressive boobs. I was a member of the itty-bitty-titty committee, and I did balk at training bras. What was the idea? What were they being trained to do? What was wrong with my little camisoles? I guess it was some rite of passage, like shaving your legs. But even what I had was enough to charge up the boys’ raging hormones. And I grew out my shag haircut and was naturally blonde. That must have helped.

Once I hit Jr. High (9th grade was the start of that nightmare), I garnered attention, so I usually had some boy around for Valentine’s Day. I do remember a few gifts.

There was a crawdad claw dipped in wax and hung on a string. I dutifully wore it and confused many neighbor cats. The wax didn’t hide that delightful aroma.

I also got a penny that had been put on a train track and smashed. I thought, well if he’s willing to risk his life, that must mean something!

There were gumball rings and necklaces made of candy—the occasional stuffed animal.

In early adulthood, I got more gifts for Valentine’s Day that I bet you never even thought of. Raise your hand if your boyfriend bought you a ferret to show his love for you. I can’t see you, but surely raised hands aren’t shooting up worldwide. I didn’t even ask for a ferret. (I did love her, though) Or did a possible boyfriend make you pancakes outside in a snowstorm in the park for Valentine’s? I don’t know, that did seem rather romantic, but I was FREEZING.

A boyfriend once got tickets to a romantic concert in a fancy club for Valentine’s. I was excited about it as I was a fan of the musical duo. (I wish I could remember their name — not a BIG fan, perhaps.)

The day arrived, and we went out for pizza first. I was cramming a piece into my face because I can’t NOT cram salty, doughy goodness into my face — it needs to get in as fast as possible so I can move on to the next piece.

In mid-cram, my boyfriend says, “I don’t think this is working out.”

Was it my cramming? I’ll never know. I bit off a more delicate bite and chewed thoughtfully while deciding how to respond.

“Ok,” I finally said, “Can we still go to the concert?”

So we did. It was great! Afterward, we returned to the same apartment building we lived in and spent days avoiding each other in the laundry room.

When I married (second time was the charm!), I told my husband I didn’t want to celebrate Valentine’s Day. He tried to hide his relief with a, “Oh, are you sure?” I don’t like sweet stuff or cut flowers, and I felt it was a corporate holiday designed to sell flowers and cards and, therefore, disingenuous. Get off my lawn!

But these days I’ve seen cards for love of ALL kinds — to celebrate love is okay by me — even love for yourself! But we only celebrate personal holidays these days. Anniversaries, birthdays. And we are both non-traditional in expressing our love for each other. I was thrilled when he left me a toy dinosaur on top of the toilet tank because he knows I love dinosaurs, and he saw one at 3 AM at a stop driving home from a music gig. It shows he was thinking of me, and that’s what counts. He didn’t need a special day.

If you celebrate Valentine’s Day, that’s great! If you don’t, that’s great! We don’t, but that’s just us; we fit each other perfectly that way.

So, Happy Day of Love! Cuddle your beast, whether it’s a person, a cat, or a bearded dragon. Contribute to your favorite charity as a show of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It certainly wasn’t for St. Valentine!

The inspiration for this story came from Ann Litts. Thank you, Ann!

Thanks for stopping by!

See you around Medium, you gorgeous humans!