I never understood Valentine’s Day. When I was a kid, we exchanged little Valentines with our friends in school, oputting them in crappy cardboard “mailboxes” our teachers forced us to make as an art project. It never failed that that one person would skip over my mailbox. Or if he did drop me a tiny envelope, it was that “I Like You” card with Optimus Prime that made my heart drop because “like” wasn’t what I wanted to see.
Seemed like an opportunity for disaster. And it was.
Even now, as a happily married woman with a great husband and beautiful daughter, I still don’t get it. Why do we feel the need to say “I love you” one day of the year? Shouldn’t we be doing it all year long? Valentine’s Day seems silly and trite.
Call me what you will, but I’d rather have 365 days of togetherness than 1 day of “romance”. I’d prefer to eat dinner at home as a family instead of one night of expensive food I can’t and don’t want to try to pronounce. I would prefer to see roses growing in my yard than have a dozen delivered to my office, only to watch them wilt after a few days.
Maybe I’m too pessimistic.
Or maybe that Optimus Prime card was a license to be cynical.