When I was a kid, I think that I probably had a romantic vision of what Valentine’s Day would be like when I was an adult. My suitor would dazzle me with a dozen long stemmed red roses and would whisk me away to a romantic candlelit meal complete with steak, wine and cheesecake. Jewelry would likely be involved – some sort of sparkling piece of bling.
In those visions, I was really skinny and had awesome hair.
Here’s my 30-year-old reality: I really don’t have great hair (I’ve had thin hair since I was a kid and the likelihood of long, flowing locks would involve Rogaine or a wig. Or both.) and I’m a country mile from skinny.
But somewhere in the second decade of my life, I found someone Tall, Dark and Handsome and at the end of the day, he genuinely loves me for me, so I feel like I’ve won the karmic lottery.
So where are the flowers? Where’s the bling?
It’s probably an understatement to say that Future Husband and I aren’t really romantic. We genuinely love each other, we try to do nice things for each other on a regular basis (last night I bought his favorite chicken nuggets, he recently bought me new shelving for our pantry and for our computer desk) but when it comes to Valentine’s Day, we have figuratively turned to each other and have said: “Meh.”
FH: “You’re not getting me anything for Valentine’s Day, right?”
Me: “I was going to get you a book but I haven’t had time to make it to the store.”
FH: “You don’t have to get me anything.”
But what’s funny about this conversation is I think there’s this underlying tension that we both feel bad about our lack of romanticism. Like we think that there’s something wrong with us because our Valentine’s plans are decidedly low-key.
The steak dinner? Both of us hate crowds. The idea of going out to eat on V-Day is enough to make both of us shudder. Flowers? Nah … I love flowers, don’t get me wrong, but as FH has said – if he’s going to spend money on a gift, he’d like to buy something that lasts. And then there’s my Evil Cat – he likes to eat flowers, I don’t know why. And bling? I weep to think of the jewelry I have hanging out in various jewelry boxes. I only wear my engagement ring and a pair of earrings that I haven’t changed out in years.
My only request for Valentine’s Day is that I don’t want to cook – I don’t want to worry about where supper is coming from that night. FH and I are going to order pizza from one of my favorite places in town – they make a pepperoni supreme pizza that they dot with cream cheese. Decadently disgustingly good stuff, I’m telling you. A couple slices of pizza washed down with good beer, with FH’s arm around me, at home in our basement together with the Evil Cat glowering at us when we refuse to share our pepperoni with him … sounds like the best Valentine’s Day a girl could ask for.
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