Valentines Day and me were pretty big enemies for a very long time. By my interpretation, the day served to do nothing more than make idiots out of teenage boys and girls and remind me (a non-idiot...clearly) that nobody liked me, nobody loved me, and I might as well go eat some worms. Into adulthood I didn't learn to love the day any more. Again it served to enhance lonliness, or, even worse, became a weird day full of pressure to make it "just right" without having any idea what "just right" really was. There was card-choosing ( do I get funny, sweet, mushy?), meal planning (steak? Chocolate Cake?) etc, etc, etc. Then there was the year we decided to try going out for dinner...which at the time was a very rare treat. (Well, that is unless dinner was handed through a window in a paper sack...we did that all the time.) Four hours later we ate overcooked and oversalted food sharing a table with my husband's boss who took pity on us when he realized how long we'd been waiting and offered to share the table-top.
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