I got quoted today on
U.S.A. Today Blog about my favorite Valentines Day sweet, which I think is really funny.
See, the thing is, I ADORE writing love stories, but I have a very odd sense of romance.I have given up being a fan of the romantic gesture, or the big box of chocolates (unless I craved chocolate.) I mean, for a while, I hoped for these things, but after LITERALLY bolluxing every attempt Mate made to be a suave, romantic sonuvabitch, it occurred to me that I was one of those awkward people for whom romance was a little more complex. Yes, you could set up the toy helicopter and the thing of flowers in the middle of the living room, but odds were very good that would be the day I didn’t get home until two in the morning and the helicopter would have stopped whirring around and the flowers would be droopy. (True story.)
Yes, I could bake the cookies with a fever of 103 degrees, and deliver them to the place we both worked, almost getting fired when I got caught. However, that would very possibly frighten my intended into bolting for the hills the very next day, while I consoled myself with Journey Songs and bulimia. (True story. We made up later. Mate regrets.)
Yes, he could get the lovely flower and the unicorn earrings and put them in the produce part of the refrigerator on the one day in seven I decided to cook vegetables, so the surprise is spoiled. (True story.)
The fact is, after twenty-six, twenty-seven years, we have come to appreciate the valentines that don’t happen on purpose. The dancing in the kitchen when a pretty song comes on the computer, the moments when we charm each other by accident, that touch on the leg or the foot that we give each other when one of us is sleeping and the other has to move about the room.
However, in the past few electronic years, I have learned that just because my beloved and I have perfected our own real romantic gestures, that doesn’t mean that my girlfriends and I don’t have the need for all the foolish, sweet, gooey, sugary fun things that come with the idea of Valentines day.
I think it was Miss Julianne (from whom I shamelessly stole the demotivator below) who first pointed out that Valentines Day was really for your buddies. The love thing is between two people– the dishing and swooning and mooning and whispering that makes up the day itself actually seems to be a happier thing when we’re doing it with our peers. After all– love is private. Talking about love, not so much.
Talking about love is making the fantasy beautiful, sharing it. It’s what romance writers do best.
Chicken is, even now,
sending me silly poetry about Teen Wolf in order to cope with the stress of “VD” as we’ve been calling it. In a way, she’s celebrating her singleness. She’s not on a man-hunt. She doesn’t want a boyfriend. But the crush of love and expectation of being a couple is wearing on her everlovin’ nerves. So she celebrates with me, and I laugh my ass off– because she’s really clever and entertaining and– well, isn’t that what we do?
We can’t count on the perfect boy doing the perfect thing on V-Day. We can’t count that our romantic gesture will be either received or interpreted right. But boy, we can count on support as we recount our tragicomic romantic woes with our friends.
Some of our favorite television shows are based on this. Some of our favorite moments from other shows capture this. This idea that platonic love can be the thing that sustains us when romantic love falters is REALLY what this day is all about!
So celebrate it.
Enjoy it.
Embrace it.
I’ve given you some of my favorite silly little pictures, some of my favorite songs that mean love. Even a lubricant commercial, to make you smile.
Share at will.
And if you have a beloved, and your romantic gesture is successful, be really grateful.
Never forget the days when you were single, and the kiss goodnight was as far away as the moon, and you had only the sunlight of your friends to sustain you.
At my daughter's high school, kids were supposed to wear colors to indicate their relationship status: pink for dating, white for single, tie-dye for "it's complicated." My daughter wore black.
I love my daughter. 🙂
Your daughter is obviously completely awesome, Kim. And you're right, Amy.
Used to be, when I was single, The whole run-up to Valentines Day made me so angry. Buy her chocolates and flowers and jewelry.Take her out for dinner, or a romantic weekend. Give her fantasy lingerie and make hot, passionate, beautiful romance together because this is a holiday for couples! Singles need not apply. Got so I wanted to take an AK-47 and write my name on a school bus, just to make all the ads shut up! Then I realized that there are people who are even worse of than I was, and so I took that holiday hype as a nudge to do something for someone else. Take cookies to the homeless shelter. Bums like heart-shaped cookies, too. Donate some nice new underwear to a women's shelter. Make some funny valentines for the folks at the local nursing home.
Or there was the time when my then intended was on a ship in the Navy headed for Singapore (long before cell phones or skype or email and we depended on the USPS) getting ready to make a phone call after the voyage had been going on for almost 6 months and it was 3 AM and I didn't understand the operator and refused the call (after he'd stood in line for almost 2 hours to use a phone) and all because the letter letting me know he was going to call got caught in the mail system and came the next day………