P.S. I Love You

The first time my heart skipped a beat was when I received a valentine at school in the fourth grade from Jeff Shaller.  I analyzed every curve of every letter, convinced there was a secret message in there that he liked me.  Thinking back, I am sure it was totally benign and if his mother was anything like I am, he was forced to give a valentine to everyone, even the little fat girl.

In the dorms during my freshman year at college the social committee offered up “Secret Sweethearts” for the week leading up to Valentine’s Day.  Those of us who wanted to participate put our names into a bowl.  I cannot remember who I got but I will never forget who got me.  This is a good lesson.  If a boy likes you, he will hunt you down and find you.  You do not need to give him your number three times or make sure you are at every single party he attends.  Mike systematically went through the entire dorm until he found out who had me and then swapped with that person.  He gave me a week of thoughtful gifts with the grand finale being a silk rose in a glass case.  When he finally revealed himself I think I shook his hand.

Another thing I will never forget is my first Valentine floral delivery—a teddy bear hugging a vase of flowers.  It was signed, “I love you and miss you.  Ralph.”  Ralph was the name of my family’s first cat, long deceased.  When I asked my dad why he signed it “Ralph” he told me he couldn’t sign it “Dad” if he wanted to scare away any wise guys that might be getting funny ideas.

The last Valentine’s Day with my father I was single and home for the weekend.  He was making dinner as usual, but when he realized I was going to be hanging around all evening, he dashed out and bought one of those giant chocolate chip cookies.  It was in the shape of a heart.

After college I was living with my mom.  My father had passed away so I was keeping her company and trying to save money.  I had just met a guy who was also living at home.  He showed up on our doorstep that Valentine’s Day with an Entertainment coupon book he borrowed from his mother and told me to flip through it and pick out a place.  When I liked him I thought that showed confidence.  When we broke up I told my friends he was cheap and weird.

My husband always wants to have a discussion prior to Valentine’s Day so that there are no hidden agendas or hurt feelings.  I used to complain to him that he really takes the fun out of it.  Now I am just glad we’d both rather spend money on sushi than lingerie.

This is the last year my older son will make a Valentine bag or be given a list of his classmates’ names to use for addressing valentines.  I read the teacher’s note at the bottom of the party announcement, “Not required to bring valentines—this is optional.”  I asked my son what his plans were.  We had already bought a box of cards with candy for him to give out and I was surprised when he didn’t tear into it.  “I’m not sure.  We’ll see.  Don’t open the box, I might return them.”  This from the little boy who used to kiss anyone willing and shout, “Happy Wallentine’s Day!”  I have been eyeing the sealed box all week.