I've always loved Valentine's Day.
When I was in primary school, my mom would bake heart-shaped sugar cookies and write the names of all my classmates on them in pink and red icing. They were always a hit. And every year I received a lot of Valentines. Perhaps because of the cookies?
Let's not delve too deeply into that.
When I was in primary school, my mom would bake heart-shaped sugar cookies and write the names of all my classmates on them in pink and red icing. They were always a hit. And every year I received a lot of Valentines. Perhaps because of the cookies?
Let's not delve too deeply into that.
Being a serial monogomist for much of my late teens and early 20's, I usually had someone to share the day with, and I just loved it. I loved getting a box of chocolates and a card and, well, that was really all I needed. Just a small token of affection. And the permission to eat a whole box of chocolates in the name of a Saint.
Some of my most memorable Valentine's Days, however, have been the ones on which I was single. I have never been one to ignore or scoff at the day; I've always wanted to take note of it in some way.
February 14th, 2002
I am rehearsing for my first ever professional play with Theatre & Company in Kitchener. I am in 1 of 3 acts, and have a total of about 11 lines, and I am damn happy to be there. I can't believe I'm getting paid to do what I love! On my way to rehearsal, I stop at a bakery and buy a box of decorated heart-shaped sugar cookies, much like the ones my mom used to make, and share them with my castmates. That year I feel like I am in love. With the theatre.
Some of my most memorable Valentine's Days, however, have been the ones on which I was single. I have never been one to ignore or scoff at the day; I've always wanted to take note of it in some way.
February 14th, 2002
I am rehearsing for my first ever professional play with Theatre & Company in Kitchener. I am in 1 of 3 acts, and have a total of about 11 lines, and I am damn happy to be there. I can't believe I'm getting paid to do what I love! On my way to rehearsal, I stop at a bakery and buy a box of decorated heart-shaped sugar cookies, much like the ones my mom used to make, and share them with my castmates. That year I feel like I am in love. With the theatre.
February 14th, 2004
I am still reeling from a break-up, but am determined to enjoy the day. I decide that I will take myself on a date, because I am a strong woman who doesn't need a man (or anyone!) to make me happy. I decide I'll take myself to a movie, and I decide that movie will be "Monster" with Charlize Theron. I decide that I will, by God, have popcorn and a pop because I DESERVE IT and I discover that balancing my popcorn and drink and purse and my coat, which I'd thrown over my shoulder, is a bit of a challenge but that's okay because I DON'T NEED ANYONE'S HELP! I watch the very good and very depressing movie, then buy a McCain Deep 'n' Delicious chocolate cake on the way home, eat half of it in my bed, and pass out with a sore stomach and many regrets.
February 14th, 2006
I am reeling from yet another break-up (I've had almost as many of these as I've had boyfriends!), and I am temping at an investment company where four men ask me to run and pick out Valentine's cards for their wives, which is so romantic I nearly tear up, thinking "I hope one day I have what they have". 4pm on Valentine's Day is, by the way, the WORST time to try and get a card. They've all been picked over by then, and you have to elbow your way to get your hands on even the very last few crappy, ugly ones that don't have matching envelopes. I buy the cards and treat myself to a chocolate bar because you have to eat chocolate on Valentine's Day, THAT'S THE RULE!
I have booked a massage appointment for myself after work; just because I don't have a boyfriend doesn't mean I shouldn't be pampered. I get a full hour of relaxation massage. And then I feel like I want to puke. All those toxins releasing into my system mixed with having only eaten a chocolate bar in the previous five hours leaves me barely able to walk home. I am supposed to go to a really fun party with friends, but have to cancel so I can recover alone in bed. A total bust.
February 14th, 2009
I am in Toronto on a day off from rehearsing a show in Peterborough, and I have one of my first dates (perhaps 3rd or 4th?) with a man named Philip. He makes me dinner and we sit at his dining table, and I present him with a scarf I have painstakingly knit for him and he pretends to like it. I find out later that he hates having warm things around his neck, so I subsequently steal the scarf back. Ours is a budding romance, and we enjoy the evening, wondering where things will go for us.
February 14th, 2012
I am now married to the scarf-hater and he asks me what I would like to do for Valentine's Day. I tell him I just want to spend the evening together, and that there should definitely be chocolate. He makes a lovely red thai curry and we eat it on the couch (we stopped eating at the dining table years ago). We each present the other with a thoughtful card and box of chocolates (the one he bought me was red and heart-shaped, which is really just the best), and we reflect on where we've been and where we're going. I feel lucky. And then I pass out on the couch by 9pm. Bliss.
February 14th, 2006
I am reeling from yet another break-up (I've had almost as many of these as I've had boyfriends!), and I am temping at an investment company where four men ask me to run and pick out Valentine's cards for their wives, which is so romantic I nearly tear up, thinking "I hope one day I have what they have". 4pm on Valentine's Day is, by the way, the WORST time to try and get a card. They've all been picked over by then, and you have to elbow your way to get your hands on even the very last few crappy, ugly ones that don't have matching envelopes. I buy the cards and treat myself to a chocolate bar because you have to eat chocolate on Valentine's Day, THAT'S THE RULE!
I have booked a massage appointment for myself after work; just because I don't have a boyfriend doesn't mean I shouldn't be pampered. I get a full hour of relaxation massage. And then I feel like I want to puke. All those toxins releasing into my system mixed with having only eaten a chocolate bar in the previous five hours leaves me barely able to walk home. I am supposed to go to a really fun party with friends, but have to cancel so I can recover alone in bed. A total bust.
February 14th, 2009
I am in Toronto on a day off from rehearsing a show in Peterborough, and I have one of my first dates (perhaps 3rd or 4th?) with a man named Philip. He makes me dinner and we sit at his dining table, and I present him with a scarf I have painstakingly knit for him and he pretends to like it. I find out later that he hates having warm things around his neck, so I subsequently steal the scarf back. Ours is a budding romance, and we enjoy the evening, wondering where things will go for us.
February 14th, 2012
I am now married to the scarf-hater and he asks me what I would like to do for Valentine's Day. I tell him I just want to spend the evening together, and that there should definitely be chocolate. He makes a lovely red thai curry and we eat it on the couch (we stopped eating at the dining table years ago). We each present the other with a thoughtful card and box of chocolates (the one he bought me was red and heart-shaped, which is really just the best), and we reflect on where we've been and where we're going. I feel lucky. And then I pass out on the couch by 9pm. Bliss.
2 comments:
I almost forgot - he also brought me a lovely bouquet. :)
..."scarf-hater"?
I love the pet names you have for me.
xoxo
-SH.
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