And the horse you rode in on, Saint Valentine. Chuck Norris, you're not welcome here either.

As a single girl, I was never caught up in the anti-Valentine’s Day movement. I just always scheduled to be somewhere not paying attention. In relationships, yesterday has almost always blown, hence the delayed post. Let’s recap, although the names may be changed in order to protect the assholes, who really do not deserve it.

• I had an alleged Valentine who went MIA that day. No visit. No phone call. No date. This was pre-text message and email. And get this: we lived together.
• I “dated,” and I use the term loosely, someone who dumped me two V-days in a row. I feel certain that this is the third worst day, behind Christmas and my birthday, to announce that you no longer wish to pursue a relationship with me in light of the meaningful relationship you began at the club/bar/college apartment/hospital the night before. I won’t diminish the seriousness of this offense by entertaining any questions about why I would pursue a second round with someone who had exhibited such abhorrent behavior the year before. Neveryoumind that.
• I once ruined my own V-day fighting about money, but that one got turned around.
• My first Valentine’s gift from Corey, when I was a sophomore in high school, was one dozen roses – half yellow for friendship and half red for love. I’m sorry my love, for I don’t remember what in the hell we did last year, but I feel certain that’s good because if I had not liked it, I would remember that.
• I don’t remember if it was Valentine’s Day, but I did have someone fly from Louisiana to DC to visit me, carting a cooler with the biggest jar of Cane’s sauce you’ve ever seen. Let’s just credit that one on V-day.

Yesterday, while my husband was mobilized at Camp Shelby, I went to dinner with my favorite single gal, Weezie. We had a romantic table by the fireplace at one of my favorite restaurants, Ruffino’s, ate some steaks, drank too much and laughed aplenty. It most certainly did not suck, because she’s wonderful company, the food was good and the drinks were strong. Wives don’t generally wish to spend Valentine’s Day away from the men they remain married to, however. I did get a lovely bouquet of roses, lilies and snapdragons today, but the lilies have not opened yet, so I will not post a picture until they do. I’ll give you a rose, though, which is baby pink on the outside and blood red in the middle.

 

The rest of this post will be devoted to singing the praises of my Valentine, who worships me from afar. That’s his most redeeming quality: he adores me. This is a desirable thing in any companion, but to come from someone who fired missiles into your heart when you were desperately in love, an event which negatively impacted every relationship of your 20s. . . . to have that person reinvent himself as someone who thinks the sun shines from your every orifice and devote his life to serving you. . . .this is someone you hold on to. I mean, what if that person who would’ve been perfect “if only” went out and made himself a better man, AND CAME BACK?! ‘Tis the stuff of fairy tales!

 

So, Corey gets his own top ten list. That and the candy, movies, CD and card are his gifts from his Valentine.

1. He never lets me go to bed angry. 
2. He gives much more to me and the boys than he would ever try to collect for himself. 
3. He always says “no” and then says “yes.” 
4. He “camps out” on the pull-out couch with his boys every Saturday night. 
5. He rarely ever complains. About anything.
6. He regulates the noise level in movie theatres. 
7. He can finish my sentences, pick up a movie quote dropped into conversation, and apply the perfect catch phrase to any scenario. (“Bunny, ball ball.”) 
8. All parts are not sold separately. He comes with small, smart, funny accessories named Jake the Snake and the Landenator. 
9. He teaches himself to endure, if not enjoy, things just because I love them. 
10. He wears a uniform. Every day.

Actually, he gets ELEVEN: He can and will kill an intruder with his bare hands. (Chuck Norris ain’t got nuttin’ on my man!)

 

I miss you. I love you. Thank you for always pointing North.

 

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