Over the years I have only received a handful a romantic gestures from beaus, some good, some bad and a couple of holidays that make me cringe and cement my dislike for the holiday.
Part of the dislike comes from having a birthday two weeks prior to Valentine’s and Christmas was only six weeks ago, so any guy that I date is tapped out in the bank account by the time this festive little holiday rolls around. And it isn’t that I want expensive things, typically cooking dinner and a nice card will do.
One year Bubba sent me a huge arrangement and I soon found out that it was to compensate for guilt. The boy proudly boasted of never giving anyone a card at anytime but I did get a tiara from him. Jorge at least would opt for the card, flowers from the grocery and then we would challenge ourselves cooking something outrageous. Chandler gets a pass this year, he was kind of occupied with surgery last week.
But this is the one day of the year that single or not I dread it. Women walk around smugly grinning and eying your desk to see if you got anything. Since I have only received the flowers being delivered at work once (from a beau) I tend to prefer the ones picked up at the grocery. The price tag is smaller and they last just as long. For me, it is the sentiment not the overpriced vase of roses that are wilting within the first thirty minutes.
I remember boasting when I got the extra large arrangement from Bubba, screaming from the rooftops to friends and family about the flowers. And then just a few short weeks later I was drop kicked on my tush with the reality that he was guilty for cheating and those flowers were to absolve his guilt. Now it is a natural thing for me to think if getting pricey flowers at work equals my man up to no good.
While this day is all about telling those you love how you feel, giving out cards, candies and gifts, I would much rather prefer the gesture of telling me how you feel on random days instead of just one day of the year. As much as I am a Hallmark whore, I would much rather see random cards in my mailbox throughout the year as opposed to Christmas, birthday and Valentine’s day.
All in all, while I am thankful I have Chandler, this day means little to me. I remember to tell him I love him daily and try to share with him that I do appreciate him, not just on special days.
So from now until eternity, I shall wear black on this day and curse under my breath while the other girls twitter on about getting flowers. Because it doesn’t matter if I don’t really want them, it matters that I still let what others do and get bother me. Oh well, I might have made several strides in self-improvement over the years but those silly grade school feelings of inadequacy still run wild.