i never celebrate valentine's day...

...but i am an avid of love. Does that count?

In high school, it seemed every girl got roses and candy and bears (oh my) for Valentine's Day--and I got squat. So, I figured if I denounced Valentine's day, I'd be much less hurt about being slighted every year. That didn't work out as I'd planned. In college, I still felt the sting of rejection when I spied a girl dashing up to her bedroom with a batch of balloons, and a grin dripping with self-satisfaction that said "He loves me THIS much." And oh, let's not talk about the date stories, "He took you where?" "No way!" "Girrrrl, you're so lucky. He must really love you!"

Several years later, a sweetheart of a boyfriend gave me 9 dozen roses...yes, that's 9 multiplied by 12 equals 108 roses! holy moly! So, in his own way, he'd made up for all those high-school and college years of me getting nothing but tears and self-pity for Valentine's Day. But I wasn't as thrilled as I thought I'd be. I wasn't filled up with that "He must really love me" feeling. In fact, it didn't feel like love at all. It felt contrived, showy, boastful even--and much too easy. I pompously thought "now we're just like all the other couples who garishly feign their endless love for one day a year." I never told him that. It would have hurt him. Besides, his heart was in the right place, and it wasn't his fault he'd chosen to give roses to a complicated, over-thinking, wishy-washy woman. Instead I hugged him ever so tightly, and said "This is enough roses for a lifetime! *smile*"--and I meant it. After that day, I asked him to never buy me roses again--because I didn't need 108 roses to know he loved me. And besides, we didn't have 9 vases in our miniature basement apartment.

I asked a friend yesterday what she and her husband were doing for V-day. She said, "Well, nothing really...Feb. 13th is the day he proposed, so we don't really do anything for the 14th. Besides, if he'd proposed to me on the 14th...ugh...I doubt I'd have married him." There you have it, from one complicated woman to another.

And so it goes, I don't need one day of the year to know I am loved...tell me everyday, or tell me once every month or even once every six months...or really--just tell me when you feel it...don't squeeze it into February 14th. But, heck--bring on the dark chocolate!! These are my favorites :-) I'm in lurrve with the orange peel.