Suck it, Hallmark

For some reason, Valentine's Day was in my face like a slobbering pitbull this year. I usually don't pay that much attention to the day. But this year, the more I ignored it, the bigger it got. I saw at least 6397 posts about it on Facebook. My students wrote about it for a writing exercise we did in class. Last night Elvira and I went to Kroger about 7:00. The entire fucking store was pink and red, and it was filled with dazed men wandering around with cellophane-wrapped flowers in their hands looking for something else to buy because they knew just the flowers weren't going to be enough. Valentine zombies.

Telling that story about the year LtColEx stole my gift got me to thinking about other Valentine's Days in recent years, and wondering if a woman only gets one super-romantic, larcenous, heart-shaped gesture in her life. I mean, sure, one will inevitably rise to the top, but is it too much to ask for a top ten five? Here, in reverse chronological order are my most memorable Valentine's Days of the past few years.

Last year I was dating a guy who sent me a text that read: "Happy socially imposed day of romantic recognition, baby." I laughed. I didn't expect anything more. He suffered from unusual allergies.

The year before that, I was seeing a guy who played me songs on my guitar for hours and got drunk. I didn't laugh. I didn't expect anything more. He had a large capacity for vodka, but it wasn't limitless.

Before that, I was in a relationship with a guy who brought me gifts: black silky boxers with red metallic hearts, a small box of chocolates from Odd Lots, and a simple card. I didn't expect anything more. I was surprised that he brought the exact same gifts for Elvira though. It was unusual opening Valentine's Day gifts from my lover with my daughter and seeing the same things come out of both giftbags. I laughed though. He wasn't comfortable with "socially imposed" gift giving, but he gave thoughtful, generous, often romantic, gifts when he was inspired or when he knew I needed something.

Before that I was married. Usually LtColEx picked up a dozen red roses and a box of Esther Price chocolates at the grocery store on his way home from work, and I cooked a special dinner that we ate with the kids. We probably had sex after they went to bed. I didn't expect anything more.

Thor. Mine.

See what I mean? I'm due a new and better story. A really fucking sexy, romantic story with lots of cookies in it. One I wouldn't even dare tell here because it would singe your eyes and make parts of your body throb.

As it is, all V Day means to me is that I'd better make sure I've got a full charge on my Vibrator. (Get it? V day? It's not as funny when I have to explain.)

Not that I'm really complaining. I'm not. This year Montana mailed me a Valentine gift bag filled with Dove darks and Lindt Lindor truffles. And a Valentine from her, Drake, and Thor -- because she knows I love me a Viking, and the only thing better than a Viking is a Viking god. (That girl is a keeper. She's choosing my nursing home, not Elvira.)

And I spent the evening with Coraline, the diva of sweetness, so Elvira could get laid enjoy a romantic interlude with her man. She showed up with a card from her, Rock Dad, and Coraline that she'd made this afternoon. Inside the card was a poem she wrote just for me.

Maybe I shouldn't have read Poe aloud while she was in my womb.

Valentine's Day: it's not all about the obligatory hearts and flowers you know.