A Valentine's Post, one day late

My mom always writes in my Valentine card each year: "This was your favorite holiday in elementary school!" Indeed, I loved Valentine's day. It was so much fun picking out which Disney character or Holly Hobby valentines you were going to pass out that year, and then came the excruciatingly difficult task of making sure you didn't give the boys you liked valentines that were too lovey-dovey. And then of course there's the candy--and I've always been a big fan of candy.
For some reason this year, I started thinking back on Valentine's Days past and how I spent them. There was the one with the high school boyfriend, a sweet-as-can-be choir geek, who took me to my favorite Chinese restaurant and afterward in his car sang me a love song that he had been practicing at his voice lessons (for the life of me I can't remember what song it was). I spent plenty of V-days as a singleton, but my favorite of those remains the one when Andrea and I were living together on Southport and made a Sacher Torte.

Some of course, were not so good. The guy I was with during my senior year at DePauw gave me a few boxes of movie theater candy (you know, Hot Tamales and Mike and Ikes and stuff like that). It had been my first Valentine's Day in years where I actually had a boyfriend and I was devastated--no flowers, no card, not even freaking chocolate--and everyone who knows me knows I hate sugary candy. That should have been my first clue that he was an idiot. If a guy doesn't know well enough to get a girl flowers on V-day, he's a damn fool.

Last year Nick gave me the Valentine's Day every girl dreams of. He came to my apartment, dressed fabulously in suit and tie (and I in brand new cocktail dress), a dozen roses in hand, a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates, and a card. He wouldn't tell me where we were going, but he gave me a clue in the car--he played Vivaldi's Four Seasons on the car stereo. Being the musican who suffered through years of music history listening exams, I knew immediately where we were headed. I was then treated to the most fabulous seven course meal of my life in the poshest of surroundings. It was movie-perfect, and I'll never forget it for as long as I live.

This year we had reservations at Brasserie Jo, a nice French place downtown. The week was a bit stressful; I was juggling lots of schoolwork, an upcoming concert, and on top of that a nasty bladder infection and a bit of insomnia. I spent most of Monday and Tuesday lying in bed with a heating pad on my tummy, feeling like I was going to vom. So by Wednesday, I was feeling about 80% but was looking forward to spending a lovely evening with my honey. After a particularly emotional session with my therapist, I headed to Nick's to get ready for dinner. I guess the intensity of the session remained with me, because I chose that moment to talk to Nick about something that had been bothering me, which turned into a rather heated discussion (some might say fight, but we're not really fighting people). We resolved things, and went on to have a lovely and delicious dinner, after which we came back to my house, "smooched" for a bit, then I finished a paper and Nick snored loudly in the background.

I realized today that It was the best Valentine's Day I've ever had. It was no fairy tale, but neither are relationships. This Valentine's Day was an affirmation of the healthy, wonderful relationship I've created with Nick and what I've achieved on a personal level over the past year. I have a man who loves me, even when I spill milk in the backseat of his car or throw a fit about how filthy the bathroom is or when I make him go to the gay street festival or even when I tell him exactly what I'm feeling and what I need. He knows how to calm me down when I'm flipping out about an upcoming audition or concert, and he's always at all my performances cheering me on. He loves me for the neurotic, sometimes self-involved, perfectionist that I am.

And he always buys me flowers on Valentine's Day.