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Valentine's Day Revisited - The Hearts, Flowers, and Cards Committee for Change

Jamie Lynn Miller's picture

heartsValentine's Day Hearts
Sunday, February 13, 2011- It was finally a decent temperature today or as my friend put it, “It’s about 70 degrees warmer than last week. Let’s go skiing.” I’ve been sick all week and today seemed like a good day to try and participate in the world. The three of us boarded the Couch and wrestled with overly weighty footrest bar. The Couch is aptly named and meant for sharing with friends: oversized and kind of cushy and not going anywhere soon. In the words of the great AC/DC, it’s a long ride (way) to the top. And there’s no way you could ever lift the footrest bar on your own.

Today was a good Couch day because it was super sunny, and there was a lot to talk about. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day.

Someone said it and then, a moment of silence.

“Valentine’s Day is the worst.”

“Seriously, it’s like I dread it all year. Everything’s just going along fine and then –wham. Here it comes.”

Friend to the left has been dating someone for a few months; friend to the right has a boyfriend (we’re using the word) who’s a single dad a few hours away.

Left Friend: “So yeah, I am not expecting much. I got him a card, but I’m holding onto it. We’ll see what he does first.” I ask her how everything’s going. “Oh, great. Everything’s fine!” We laugh. It’s just Valentine’s Day; this is what happens.

I ask how long she’ll wait till the big card unveiling - Ten o’clock? 11:59? “Yeah if he blows it? Maybe I’ll give it to him right at the last minute; scribble something real quick then bust it out, just to make him feel bad.”

So it’s not about genuine affection, it’s about who draws their pistol first?

Right Friend chimes in: “Well, you don’t want it to be like Christmas, when Scott unveiled the new TV set and I showed up with a hat. I was like, ‘Um, yeah, still working on your present pile, hope this’ll tide you over.’”

I start cackling.

“I was horrified!” she continued. “I didn’t know we were going big, geesh…”

I nudge Left Friend. “So definitely don’t overwhelm him with that card.”

“It’s a girl’s holiday,” she said, still laughing. Meaning we should go all out and shower the man? “No, meaning it’s their turn to do the fussing. I’m hangin’ onto the card. I’ll keep you posted.”

Right Friend’s boyfriend was supposed to come down for the weekend, but his family obligations whittled the visit down to maybe just Sunday night; then they were both traveling for work for a few weeks, starting Monday morning. “I mean, I can’t be upset because he’s being a good dad, which is awesome, but our weekend just got totally …shrunk. “ She referred to the Weekend of Dwindling Time as the Shrinkage.

Our laughter was now moving the chair; good thing the footrest bar was so heavy, after all.

“So he’ll be here for like four hours…yeah…and then it’s Valentine’s Day…”

There it is. Insult to injury. Relationships are hard enough. You don’t need an interpersonal speed bump followed by a road damage sign that reads, “yeah…and then it’s Valentine’s Day…”

I try to be Zen and transcendental, all those things that go over well between pages on coffee tables and say, “How about if you get all Jedi Mind trick this year and just choose to…ignore it?”

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