Valentine's Day.

On my old blog I wrote about Valentine's Day twice. I wrote about how I hated it but didn't hate it. I wrote about how to be my Valentine. I wrote about how Jesus is not and should not be anyone's "Valentine." I wrote about the unrealistic stories that chick flicks present. I got pretty real and sounded silly in the process.

I liked Valentine's Day because there would be cheap chocolate the next day. It was fun to pretend that there might be a guy out there who would reveal his feelings for me in some big romantic way. I'd always build it up in my head, imagining roses and music and this amazing movie moment.

It never happened, and I would always end the day a little disappointed. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has gone through this. But the only reason I didn't like Valentine's Day is because I allowed myself to have expectations and because I allowed myself to be jealous of everyone's fun. If you're the type who will feel this way, stop reading now. There's nothing profound or worthwhile in this post. It's simply a public journal of my Valentine's Day experiences.

This is the first year since I was 13 that I have looked forward to Valentine's Day. In seventh grade I had a boyfriend named Andy. We were in Fort Wayne Children's Choir together and on Valentine's day that year we had a performance of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat." He gave me a box covered in duct tape with inside jokes written on it. The box was filled with chocolates from Christmas. He also made me a card that I still have somewhere. I gave him nothing. Andy was pretty much the best boyfriend a seventh grader could have. I broke up with him a few months later in an email. I'm the worst. We're Facebook friends now.

The next year, I convinced a guy I was friends with to be my Valentine. He gave me two bags of Russel Stover chocolate hearts. I gave him nothing. I didn't know how to be a Valentine.

Since then Valentine's Day hasn't been very significant. My friends and I bought carnations for each other in high school. I once sorted out all of the orange conversation hearts and gave them to a friend who hated orange. He gave me a carnation. I don't know whether he got it specifically for me or if someone had sent it to him and he decided to give it to me.

But this year I have a boyfriend. That changes things.

We celebrated on Thursday, partially because today was going to be a busy day for both of our places of employment and working tonight would mean that we made decent money and partially because it was the 12th, which is our Dope-iversary. We went to lunch (Queen of Sheba, pretty tasty), we saw "The Imitation Game" (excellent), we watched "The Legend of Korra." Because it was a double celebration, I may have gone a little overboard with gifts. They were mostly boring things like pillowcases, but still. I gave him like, six things. And I got homemade brownies from my boyfriend who doesn't like to bake. He also got me roses and wine. I felt and feel very loved.

I know that we shouldn't need a special day to demonstrate our love for each other. And we don't. We express our love for each other often and in various ways. But it's fun and cute and silly to spend a day going the extra mile. I like being able to tell the story of what happened on Valentine's Day, rather than writing some pseudo-profound post about how it shouldn't matter.

It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. It's a day. But I'm going to enjoy the fact that I have a boyfriend and he's awesome and I love him.

More importantly:
I'll notify her next of...uh...fruit cup.