Wednesday, Feb. 14, 2001
Valentines
I've never been a fan of Valentine's Day. I even stopped celebrating it a few years ago. James and I agreed that it was a silly holiday. We surprise each other all the time with little gifts. We allow one another to splurge on indulgences. And we've cooked, dined out and eaten our fair share of romantic dinners.
I remember my first few working years when I was at the paper. On Valentine's, all the girls with the "shitty" boyfriends and husbands would have desks adorned with balloons and flowers and whatnot. And if they didn't, they'd be bitching up a storm. I never received anything (except for these goofy Rocky Rococco pizza's that James would send me that but that's a WHOLE 'NOTHER entry) -- and I never minded not receiving anything. It just wasn't important to me. And I didn't need it. I didn't have myself a husband who was always "hanging out with the guys" or who would "forget my birthday." I've always known I've been very lucky to have
the loving, thoughtful husband that I do. He didn't need to "prove himself" on some arbitrary day called Valentines.
But I suppose that's not the ONLY reason I haven't been a Valentine's fan. If I told you it was, I'd be lying. Because, honestly, I've had some pretty shitty Valentine's days.
Yeah, yeah. I just got done with the whole, "I don't need Valentine's" spiel and a paragraph later I'm explaining to you why mine have been crappy.
But they have been.
I suppose the crappiest Valentine's memory is that James actually broke up with me on Valentine's years ago.
I think it was the first year we were dating. We were young: me: 18, him: 20. We hadn't even been together a year. We had started dating on and off in October and had become more of a couple towards the holidays. He even ventured up north to Wisconsin (at the time, Tennessee was his home) to visit me during Christmas break. But after returning to school for the spring semester, something had changed. I could tell, although I didn't want to admit it.
James was my first love. My first "time." And I had a sense that things were ending. It was the wind-down period of the relationship that (at the time) I knew so well. I hadn't had a ton of boyfriends. But I had my fair share. And I always knew when the end was approaching.
So, it was Valentine's and James and I had a double date planned. I can't quite remember who it was with, except that the girl was named Kelly and was James' big sister in his fraternity. We went to this terrible restaurant that reminded me of those country/diner types that overflow on Interstate exits. Murray, the town where we went to college, was "dry" which meant they weren't allowed to sell liquor. Therefore, no decent restaurants ever opened there because they couldn't have a bar. So, we go to this restaurant and I swear everyone around us was like 70. And I remember eating this horrible tossed salad with French dressing. You know, those awful iceberg lettuce salads with a wedge of tomato and slice of hard-boiled egg on the side with carrot "shavings"? I think there were even paper lace doilies as placemats.
Pure class.
After dinner we went to see Dances with Wolves. I didn't want to see this movie, actually, but the other couple picked and I was pleasantly surprised how much I enjoyed it. It was the best part of the night.
When the movie was done, James and I returned to my dorm room where I had spent way too much money on way too many corny gifts: candy, toys, a stuffed polar bear that held a poem that I wrote. (God -- I was SUCH a twit!). James
didn't get me anything and I was a little hurt, but didn't say much about it.
And then he broke up with me.
Oh, I cried and cried. We talked about it for what seemed hours. He said he didn't want to do it to me on Valentines, but then didn't want to "drag it on any longer." It was a long night and I remember spending an exorbanite amount of energy trying to convince him not to do it. I was young. I was
silly. I thought I could convince him to stay with me.
It was probably the hardest break up of my young life. It took me a long time just to feel good about myself again after that. I remember cutting off 5 or 6 inches of my hair. I started exercising with a vengeance. and I started "partying" with my friends. I was going to get over Mr. James and I was going to have fun during the process. I even met another of his ex-girlfriend's over lunch to chat about what a rat he was.
How catty.
Obviously, the break didn't take. We eventually got back together. We both eventually matured and now we've been married for over 6 years.
And, honestly, I barely recognize the young couple that we once were.
Still, that breakup made for a really, REALLY crappy Valentine's.
After we got married, I boycotted Valentines for a while. It really didn't hold any sentimental value and ended up a waste of money as well. By year 2 or 3, we barely batted an eye over the day. Then, year 4, something stirred. I'm not quite sure what it was, but a few days before the holiday, I was surfing Epicurious.com and came across a beautiful Valentine's menu: Steak with a Merlot/Shallot Sauce, Grilled Asparagus, Chocolate Flourless Cake. I couldn't resist so James and I agreed to celebrate with a romantic dinner and afterwards do our taxes. It seemed a perfect way to celebrate. We could enjoy dinner, a glass or two of champagne and then finish a task that is always a chore.
Then last year, I can't remember what we did, but I think we did go out to dinner or something. Perhaps I was too overtaken by the whole "Who Mants to Marry a Millionaire" thing that aired on the 15th. It clogged my memory.
At any rate, the years and "celebrations" of sorts have compounded and this year I didn't even think twice about getting James some Valentine goodies. I went to Target and got him the Micheal Graves Teapot he's been oohing and awwing over. (I know, I must have the ONLY husband who actually wanted a Teapot as a gift!). I also got him some candies and had it all waiting at the door for him when he came home. My gift? He took me out to dinner to the Barbary Fig, a North African/Morroccan restaurant in St. Paul that I had been dying to try. Dinner was excellent. We had a lovely salad appetizer with puréed artichokes and goat cheese. Then for dinner, I had a cous cous dish that featured currants, fresh veggies (zucchini, carrots, etc.) with lamb sausage and chicken. James had something similar. And for dessert we had the most delicious poached pear topped with dark chocolate and a dab of marscapone cheese. It was one of the best desserts I've ever had in my entire life. We drank a bottle of Morrocan wine with diner and the whole thing came to less than $60! I couldn't believe it.
So it was a good Valentines and we've kind of come full circle. For years, I wouldn't celebrate on principle. And now, well, I figure why fight it? It's not that I'm missing these "little things" during the rest of the year, because I'm not. But, shoot, who can't use an extra holiday to get dressed up, giggle over your loved one and enjoy a little food and fun in the process.
Oh yeah, and my bike was stolen. But even that wasn't enough to ruin my day.
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