Valentine Remix

Back in my corporate days, my work friend Orlane, who is from Belgium, would spend Valentine’s Day exasperated by her co-workers exchanging candy or cards.  “Valentine’s Day is for lovers!”  In her French accent, it was very convincing.

But let’s consider the percentage of people who are happy with those parameters.  From elementary school on, I was analyzing the store bought Valentines from the boys in my class and trying to decide if “Hi, Friend!” meant Bob Edson liked me.  I couldn’t accept that fourth grade boys don’t even write names on the cards, they just sign their own names on the back and randomly pass them out to everyone in the class.  Then in high school on into old age, people who don’t have a date are bummed because they don’t have a date.  Add in anyone who is married or has been dating longer than 2 or 3 years, because that’s when people get lazy.  So Valentine’s Day for lovers only works if you are new to a relationship and not dating an idiot.  What percentage of the population would you guess falls into that category?  Eight?

I thought I had solved this by deciding last year that we would celebrate Valentine’s Day with a nice family dinner party.  So this year and last year, I decorated the table with balloons and heart streamers and paper doilies and cooked a nice meal.  Last year, it was great.  This year I realized it meant I was doing all the work to make the day special.  Trent bought a card for me at the grocery store and sat down to enjoy the steak that I cooked.  My feminist ways rebel against this.

So decided that we should reclassify Valentine’s Day and participation is optional.  Valentine’s Day is for People Who Give A Shit and if you don’t care, you’re out, go eat canned green beans and watch a movie with the other people who don’t care.  Everyone who wants to make cards and eat a Butterfinger in a pink wrapper can join together and party.  Rush and Tate, covered in chocolate covered strawberries, you can participate for now.  All the moms in Rush’s class who sent thoughtful Valentines with your kids, you can party with me.  My sister-in-law who sent really creative handmade cards for Rush and Tate and my great aunt who sent the family picture titled Mason Valentine #63, totally approved.

My husband who participated in this conversation in January-

Me:  I have an idea for a valentine I want to make for you, but it’s going to take forever and I’m not sure that you’ll care.

Trent:  I won’t.  I don’t care about that kind of thing.

Denied.  He can reapply for participation, but for now he’ll be free to work in the garage next February 14.  My mom, who went to visit my sister because, “Dad and I have already celebrated a lot of Valentine’s Days together.” will be joining Trent.  But anyone else who wants to potluck your fanciest heart shaped desserts next year, you’re welcome in my home.

Update:  Literally at this point in my typing, Trent walked in the door with a big bouquet of flowers in an attempt to redeem last Tuesday.  Well done Trent.

The flowers bring up the glitch in my plan.  I want a Valentine’s Day where people can choose to participate or not, but I want Trent to want to participate.  This is why his favorite scene in any movie is the post-dinner party scene in The Break Up, Vince Vaughn shouting, “You want me to want to wash the dishes?!”

So I don’t know what to do about Valentine’s Day, except conclude that you can’t hang your hopes on your spouse or boyfriend or the person you’re stalking to make the day special.  If you care about making it special, do it yourself and make everyone’s day.  It’s about sharing love, so smother the people you love and your co-workers and classmates and the people in line with you at Dollar Tree* buying balloons with as much love and candy as you can.

 

*On Valentine’s Day, Tate was crying and crying while waiting in line to check out with our balloons.  The woman in front of us found a dump truck in the store, gave it to Tate to play with, then bought it for him.  When I tried to stop her, she said “Don’t limit the blessings.” Amen, sister.