My best memory day of Valentine’s Day is not one I share with my husband. It is not one I really care to remember. But alas, it is the one that I will forever base all other V-Day’s on. It was quintessentially perfect, from the minute I woke up to the second I drifted off into Neverland for the night.
Did I mention it wasn’t with my husband. Therein lies the problem.
I had been dating this lad, and yes, I will call him a lad because not only were we youngish in our late teens and early twenties, but really, he was a child (which is why I am married to Shaughn not him).
V-Day was on a Saturday that year, he promptly arrived at my parents place at 10am, told me to pack a bag, he would wait. I quickly gathered all I could and threw it into my overnighter and we were off. We didn’t actually have far to go. Just a couple of hours down the road. We had a lovely lunch in a diner, then off to a matinée stage show. We checked into an amazing B&B for the night, and ate dinner in bed in front of a fire. It was perfect.
Fast forward to every other many I’ve dated. No one can compete with that shit. Not one of them came close. Shaughn has half heartedly tried, but V-Day just isn’t his thing. Romance just isn’t his thing (he has many other awesome traits to make up for it though). So year after year I am disappointed. I don’t know what I expect, but nothing measures up, or can come close. So rather than being continually disappointed, I quit Valentine’s Day. Yep, I quit it.
I will do the V-Day thing for the kiddo, the party for daycare, make a big fuss for them, but for me personally…not a chance. I figure this is a defense mechanism , if I quit it, I can’t be disappointed, again.
I love the idea of love, I know that I am loved, I really don’t need a day for people to show me love, I get it daily.
Thanks Hallmark, Papyrus, Carlton et al, this year I will keep my $6.00.