Hubby and I don't "do" Valentine's Day. Haven't in years. It's not that we don't welcome a little romance from time to time, it's just that it's so....scheduled.
Hubby and I started seeing each other on 19 February 1993. That's when we shared our first kiss. For years, I denied that I was the first to steal a smacker. But it's true. It was me. There you go - I've FINALLY admitted to it. (Quite frankly, if I'd waited for Hubby to make the first move, we'd still be sitting here smiling shyly at each other.)
5 days before that first kiss, on Valentine's Day, we sat in a beer garden, joking with each other (as was the way our conversations always went). I asked what he'd bought me for Valentine's Day? "This," he announced, holding up a single blade of grass.
"You are so romantic," I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "I bet all the girls are lining up to date you."
"Yep," he replied, and laughed.
By the following Valentine's Day, we were in fully fledged love-fest mode. I made up a basket of goodies for Hubby. It included everything cliched and typical of such a gift for such an occasion. Chocolates, a balloon and even, embarrassingly, a pair of silky, printed boxer shorts, with love hearts or the like on them. And YES, I had it sent to his work. He sent me a dozen, long stemmed red roses. I loved them.
You see, up until I started seeing Hubby, I had always looked forward to the day when I would be the one dating someone on Valentine's Day, and I would be the one that went home with the flowers, instead of being the one watching everyone else struggle to get their bunch of helium filled balloons in to the car, or carry their flowers down the street.
And yes, I had had a couple of Valentines surprises before I met Hubby, but from no one particularly special. That first Valentine's Day with Hubby was fantastic.
Then the following year, I was at work, and waiting for the delivery. I knew it was coming. And it did. Flowers arrived again, and once again, they were beautiful.
And whilst I could never tire of receiving flowers of any description, admittedly, by our third Valentine's Day together, it occurred to me that I wasn't particularly excited on what is supposed to be the most romantic day of the year. Because I knew what was coming. In fact, I had come to expect it.
I didn't like feeling that way. It didn't seem right. So after that, I went home to Hubby and said, "You know what? Let's not do Valentine's Day anymore. I don't like knowing that you're going to send me something. I'd rather you bought me a bunch of flowers just...whenever you felt like it."
And so that was it. We never did "do" Valentine's Day ever again. And honestly, I barely notice it's here when it does roll around each year.
However, the whole "buy me flowers whenever you feel like it" was maybe not the smartest move I've ever made. I mean yes, occasionally Hubby comes home with a bunch from the shops - just for fun - but more often than not, we're also expecting guests for dinner (they make a nice centrepiece).
And so I find myself in a very odd situation. Here me out here. I canned Valentine's Day because I didn't like that I was expecting flowers, and now I find myself thinking, 'Well, if Hubby was to buy me something on Valentine's Day this year, it would be a surprise!'
There's just no pleasing some people, is there?
Oh, and BTW - I do, however, recommend a special dinner for each other. Not necessarily on Valentine's Day - just whenever...and here's one on Mummy Mayhem's Recipe Box that might be just the thing...view here.
Until next time...