I don’t know if I have yet written a Valentines Day scene.
I know that in Bound, when Cory is celebrating/mourning the day she actually looked up and saw Adrian in the gas station, Bracken panics for a minute, because he thinks he forgot Valentines Day, and Cory is like, “Yeah, no, doesn’t matter.” I’m pretty sure that none of my characters have had a make-or-break scene during Valentines day. The reason for this is sort of simple, and can be summed up by the shortbread story. (For those of you who have heard this before, forgive me–I posted it to my yahoo group, m/mmarvelous –feel free to look it up on yahoo and join by the way– and folks seemed to like it, so I thought I’d go into it more here:-)
So here it is. The shortbread story–because, I baked shortbread for Mate this Valentines day and the thing is, Mate and I have a history with shortbread:
Twenty-five years ago (yes, people years not dog years, why do you ask?) Mate and I were dating. We both worked at McDonalds (yup, heard that right too) and, well, he didn’t really want to be dating me. I was sort of a blowback from the fact that we’d both had our hearts stomped on by different people and had consoled ourselves at Denny’s until two in the morning, until I thought, “Hey, this guy is MUCH cooler than the schmuck I thought I liked!” and he went, “Well, hell, she’s willing to kiss me, I guess.” Anyway, he was my FIRST BOYFRIEND, and I had him for VALENTINES DAY and OMG was I going to do the romantic gesture.
So I baked him Scottish shortbread at a friend’s house. And as I was baking, I started to spike a fever. 103 degrees, no shit. So I had to call in for work. Remember– where we both worked? And then, although my friends BEGGED me to just wait until the next day, I HAD to drive thirty miles to give them to him. At work.
I almost got fired. Seriously. If friends at worked hadn’t told the manager that I looked like shit, I would have gotten fired. (I actually DID get fired from that job later, for refusing to wear my hat, but that’s another story.)
Anyway, and Mate, my darling Mate, took one look at that feverish devotion and did the wise thing–ran like hell. Broke up with me the next day. No shit.
Now later I (in Mary’s words) culled him from the herd and made him mine with the cunning use of depression weight loss, puppy dog eyes, and a skillful application of stalking, but that was my first Valentines Day, with Mate.
Now there’ve been twenty-five since, right? Some awesome (Monday’s–yes, Monday’s, because the restaurant wasn’t crowded, that’s why!) and some not so awesome (It’s what?) but I guess it all goes back to that first one–inflated expectations and unreasonable fear. So last night, I baked him shortbread, even though it was a day early, and we went to the movies. It was sort of atonement, really, for that first day. This was no muss, no fuss, no thousand dollar gift, no omg this is THE DAY pressure. We had a really nice time.
And as for Mate’s gift to me? Flowers (they’re pretty!) and a toilet seat. I’m the only one who uses our bathroom, really (don’t ask me why–but if you ever see a big news headline that reads “Fat Woman Crashes Through Floor of Bathroom”, do me a favor and don’t look at the picture. Please) and the toilet seat in that bathroom was cut to shreds. He was sort of hurt, really–took me six trips to the bathroom before I realized that it was MUCH more comfortable now–but when I finally got it? I was suitably appreciative. Home improvement ain’t no small schizz in our house–we both hates it, and a new toilet seat? Dude–that’s big smooch mojo, really.
So there you go. The shortbread story. Valentines Day with Mate and I. I think the internet summed it up best with this tweet right here:
Shit My Dad Says: “Valentine’s day is bullshit. Our DNA demands we fuck each other, so if you need a holiday to talk your wife into screwing you, it’s over.”
So that’s it– Valentines day– but I do think there is something to be added here. All of my children were early for one holiday and conceived around another. Example? Big T is two weeks early for Christmas–which means he was conceived around Spring Break. Chicken was a week early for mine and Mate’s birthdays–which means she was conceived around Christmas. Squish was early for Easter, which means she was conceived around our anniversary. There you go. And Zoomboy? Well, Zoomoboy was early for Thanksgiving. His birthday’s on November 15th. You do the math.
By the way– I’m writing a story to this song. It’s heartrendingly beautiful:
I have not heard the shortbread story before. The man is frickin' lucky he didn't ruin his whole life right then.He should rub your feet and thank you for second chances.
When my kids were little, I made a big deal of Valentine's Day (love is love and everybody deserves it). These days, we aim for the quiet. I'm doing some baking too but I'm making some of PK's favorite polish cookies. I'll bake him a big batch this weekend and he doesn't have to share.
He'll go and find some yellow and blue and green carnations because of his poem and because I one time told him I like the smell of carnations. We're hokey and don't need a day in Feb to celebrate that, we celebrate that every day.
I have not heard the shortbread story before. The man is frickin' lucky he didn't ruin his whole life right then.He should rub your feet and thank you for second chances.
When my kids were little, I made a big deal of Valentine's Day (love is love and everybody deserves it). These days, we aim for the quiet. I'm doing some baking too but I'm making some of PK's favorite polish cookies. I'll bake him a big batch this weekend and he doesn't have to share.
He'll go and find some yellow and blue and green carnations because of his poem and because I one time told him I like the smell of carnations. We're hokey and don't need a day in Feb to celebrate that, we celebrate that every day.