I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day; never have been. Who cares about the grand Hallmark-inspired gesture on the day that society dictates that Great Love be shown? Instead, bring a bunch of roadside-picked flowers home on a random day for no reason; it means a lot more that way.
I say this even though I am married to a man whom I would cheerfully marry all over again if the opportunity presented itself. Love and marriage, at least to me, are not about the chocolate or roses or sappy cards or diamonds. Or about the big fancy expensive wedding day, for Pete's sake, but that's a separate post.
True love, to me, sounds something like this:
"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend a day with you I can still smell your perfume on my clothes, and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of the life to start as soon as possible."
Just once, I'd like to see a Hallmark commercial that shows real love. The kind shown by a husband who gets up with a crying baby even though he has to go to work early the next morning, because he knows that his wife is exhausted. Or a wife sitting by her husband holding the emesis basin while he's getting chemo. Or a couple holding hands by the bedside of their ill child, each drawing strength from the other. Or beaming with pride while they watch their child graduate from college or marry. Those are the moments that bind. The roses can be a reminder, but they aren't enough. By itself, no trinket or bauble is enough, no matter WHAT the marketers say, which is why I don't like this holiday.