Valentine’s Day is so commercialized, I scoff! I turn my nose up at the displays, at the flower market (although honestly I love the flower market). I breeze by the chocolates (cause I have a huge stash at home). Like a Valentine’s Scrooge. Scroogette.
It’s lovely though to see all the posts, the bouquets, the sweet surprises, the declarations of love and faithfulness on social media. I’m a real romantic at heart, and it’s only now that I’ve found myself dating a guy who is just as cheesy as I am.
We didn’t go out or have dinner. It’s not our thing. We didn’t even meet up.
For the record, the men I’ve dated were usually nonchalant about this commercialized holiday. I was okay with it. Sometimes. I occasionally had to demand flowers, the way really bad deities demand sacrifice. I would have also been okay with meat and jewels, and food! My dad though, who is a sweetheart, always gives me flowers.
But wow there’s such a wonderful thrill, when your phone rings and it’s a delivery service and the flowers are almost as tall as you! “It took them an hour to make your bouquet,” he says when I call to thank him. THIS MAN. I swear. Okay, enough of the cheesy. I’m going to go put these flowers in a vase now.