Valentine’s Day: A Love Story

Another post that is a little off topic, but important to me, nonetheless.

Valentine’s Day.

Just another holiday in which Hallmark tries to separate you from your cash, right?  I think so.

When I was single, I hated Valentine’s Day.  With a passion.  I used to say it was because of all of the corporate money-grubbing b.s. associated with it.  I also hate it because I work in restaurants.  Valentine’s Day blows for anyone who is not a server.  Trust me.  If you go out and eat on Valentine’s Day, your food is probably prepared by a person who is so disgruntled, he or she might urinate in your soup.  Just saying.

Then, almost six years ago, I met the person who would change my life.

I met her in a bar.  I know, you’re not supposed to try to find your soul mate at the local watering hole, but hear me out.  It was my birthday, and I was miserable.  I hated my job, I had no romantic prospects (in fact, I was on an eight year dry spell), and I was not a fun person to be around.  This particular bar was having a 2-for-1 mixed drink special, so a group of my friend’s coworkers was gathering there, and she and her now ex-husband drug me along.  As long as he kept ordering gin and juice, my rum and cokes would be free, so I could get trashed for nothing.  I didn’t care for a lot of my friend’s coworkers, but I could tolerate (by tolerate, I mean ignore) them long enough to get shit-faced, then ignore them some more.

A couple of girls joined our table.  One of them had just been hired at their workplace, and she was meeting everyone for the first time.  Even in my drunken haze, I remember feeling that I should remember her, because I would be seeing her a lot more.  She seemed curious about me, but I don’t think we spoke, except to introduce ourselves.

A few days later, I was dragged to the local buffalo wing bar, and she happened to be there.  This time I wasn’t drunk, and was in better spirits.  I wasn’t wearing my glasses, since I was wearing sunglasses, and I had exchanged my dirty, nasty Texas Longhorns hat for my slightly less dirty and nasty Texas Rangers hat.  I saw her there, and I remembered who she was.

She didn’t recognize me.  I couldn’t explain why, but it hurt my feelings.  I am not the most charismatic individual, but I’m not that forgettable.

Anyway, she friended me on MySpace (showing my age here), and we talked in messages and on the IM.  I ended up getting fired from my job, and she came over with a 12-pack of beer and let me vent on her.

Over time, it became obvious that she liked me.  But, I was scared.  What did she want?  I was getting too old for casual encounters, and I was ready to take the plunge.  Did she feel the same?  Did she just want in my pants?  Would she take me out, get what she wanted, and never call again?  I wasn’t sure.  I liked her, but I didn’t think I could stand to have my heart broken.

I told her that I just wanted to be friends, and it broke her heart.  I felt horrible about it.  I knew I had made a mistake, but, being a guy, I couldn’t admit it.  I didn’t let her go.  I couldn’t.  I kept calling her.  I cooked for her (guys in my family show they like you by cooking for you.  I don’t know why.  It’s just what we do.).  I wouldn’t go away.  On Valentine’s Day, five years ago, she let me kiss her.  She later said that she was angry with me, but she let me kiss her anyway.

Now, after almost four years of marriage, and one scary-smart, super villain of a son later, I am truly happy for the first time since I was a kid.

We did everything they say you shouldn’t do.

1) We met in a bar.

2) We had barely been together for two months before I knew I wanted to marry her.

3) We had barely been together for four months when we were engaged.

4) We had been together a little over a year when we were married.

5) We had been married 3 months when she got pregnant.

People say that you can’t go to fast.  I say that is true… most of the time.  We had what was almost a whirlwind romance, and I couldn’t be happier.  We were also old and wise enough to know what was right.  And this was right.

I still hate the corporate b.s. surrounding Valentine’s Day, but the day itself has a whole new meaning.  I know Valentine’s Day was originally established to honor a priest who was brutally murdered, but the modern meaning is no longer lost on me.

It is a way to celebrate your love for someone.  Simple as that.  You don’t have to spend a lot of money.  My wife and I never have.  Come to think of it, we’ve never had a lot to spend.  Anyway, I buy her chocolates, she buys me Valentine’s Peeps, we cook a nice dinner, then… well, you know.

Valentine’s Day has now become one of my favorite days.

Thank you, baby.  I love you.  Forever.

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3 Responses to “Valentine’s Day: A Love Story”

  1. Thanks for the reminiscing 🙂 I’d forgotten all about the 2 for 1 special. I was just there for the karaoke.

    And now I feel like a tortoise for moving so slowly…

    • You’re welcome. I forgot all about the karaoke. I just wanted to get drunk. As far as moving so slowly… to each their own. As long as you’re doing what you feel is right by you, then you can be as slow as you want.

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