It’s true. I hate Valentine’s Day. I consider it an insincere day of atonement. It’s a day that people who are not particularly good to their significant others for the previous 364 days can compensate for it by giving an overpriced bouquet of roses or going out to an overrated restaurant for dinner. Then after the roses have wilted and the dinner has been digested, it’s back to the old behavior…until next Valentine’s Day. I don’t subscribe to this.
Don’t get me wrong, I am far from perfect. I am not conventionally romantic. I can be down-right despicable to live with at times. I’m opinionated, demanding and, as my husband and daughter have pointed out, occasionally hypocritical. I am not what anyone would call “warm.” I generally dislike being touched. Over the last couple of years, the latter two aspects of my personality are starting to make more sense. But you always know where you stand with me and I think that is refreshing in a world where people so often make pretend to people’s faces. My ears are always open to anyone who needs to be heard and I have been known to give some unselfish (even good) advice from time to time as well. And when someone I care deeply for tells me that I’ve said or done (or sometimes not done) something that upsets him or her, I work towards changing so that I don’t cause that person any more pain…at least not in that particular way. To me, that is romantic. To me, that is love. To me, that beats a bouquet of roses any day of the year.
So go ahead and celebrate Valentine’s Day any way you want…and remember that celebration doesn’t have to be confined to February 14th.