I’m not much of a Valentine’s Day gal.
I know, I know, you’re rolling your eyes because, really, isn’t this all about not liking Valentine’s Day when you’re single, Cath?
But there was such a thing as Valentine’s Day before this, 2014.
I remember being in kindergarten and making silly little Disney Valentines for everyone in my class. I painstakingly signed my name, and then we walked around the room and slipped them into the respective white paper bags with huge red letters: Ryan, Jen, Michelle. I remember sifting through my stash and really only noticing the ones with those red heart lollipops with weird white words on them.
And then I think of my mom’s amazing heart-shaped sugar cookies with raspberry jam in the middle, how she bakes them every year and sprinkles confectioner sugar on top. And I wonder how many I can consume in one day before it becomes uncouth.
Then there was the one Valentine’s that I had a boyfriend, and I was lavished with flowers (snuck in by my roommate), breakfast at my favorite restaurant (where we got Breakfast Monster sandwiches and far too much dark roast coffee), followed by a long day of our favorite things. I remember his mom saying, “Honey, you set the bar too high!”. That’s probably why we broke up – he couldn’t handle the pressure of recreating such a huge event.
But really, Valentine’s Day just doesn’t do it for me.
I’m not particularly fond of pink or red or purple; I’m more of an ocean-colors girl.
I don’t love cheap Russell Stover chocolates (sorry if you do! embrace our differences!), and I certainly don’t like the feeling that you’re telling me you love me because the ads on TV reminded you.
I’m also not one for those terrible-tasting dusty hearts with the weird sayings.
Here’s a sampling:
cool cat ~ puppy love ~ crazy 4 u ~ dream team ~ fit for love (I’m sorry, what?!) ~ home run (again, oh my gosh) ~ book club (?) ~ dress up (ummm, jerk!) ~
recipe 4 love
I could keep going. But I won’t.
And even though I love flowers because they’re beautiful, I can’t get over the wilting, the drooping, the stench of the water, or the unceremonious way they get shoved into the trash roughly 3.5 days later than they should be.
Now, if you were thinking of sending me some delightful token to remind me you care, please don’t consider this a warning not to. I want you to. I want to get a card in the mail or a text or a sweet phone call.
I guess all I’m saying is that, kind of like when I wrote about not being as romantic as perhaps I should be, there are some things that feel more natural to me.
And saying I love you because I can’t help it (and not because Hallmark said it for me) is one of those things.