My Wife and I have a funny system for events like Valentine's Day. We'll both buy more cards than we actually need. Then, on the day itself, we'll go through them again, for the "final cut" to make sure we get just the right one. Usually we end up giving 2 cards anyway, one which is very serious. The other almost always says something about farting.
Every year My Wife has hung red ribbons across the living room for Valentine's Day. This year she may have to work late. If so I'm plotting to try to surprise her by doing it before she gets home.
My Wife and I met in college, as I was graduating and she was in the beginnings of her freshman year. We never intended to date each other. I had recently been dumped by my fiancee, whom I loved and had expected to marry, and she herself was already dating someone else.
We were both runners. She had no car and didn't feel safe running on campus. I had a car, but no motivation to go running all alone. So I agreed to drive her to the running park where I had competed in cross country in high school if she would run with me.
My friends said I was robbing the cradle. I said "we're not going to date. I'm not messing with any more 18 year olds ever again."
At first we only saw each other when we ran or every now and then in Sunday school, if we both showed up, which we often didn't. Later we ended up playing tennis together. We had other friends who had pushed us to hang out together in the first place, but mostly for their entertainment because we were both so similar in our weird senses of humor. Eventually, though, we were hanging out without them. And they got mad.
Neither one of us knows for sure exactly when we went from being friends to dating. It was a gradual thing. For a long time we were just sitting around watching football in the dark, cold den. At some point we ended up ignoring the football and watching each other. It was unplanned and unexpected.
And undressed.
I think we had only been dating for about a year and a half when I got a job offer in Memphis. It was a great offer and I couldn't turn it down.
"So are we breaking up," she asked me?
"No way. I'm not letting this go so easily" was my answer. So for 2 solid years I drove 200 miles each way from Memphis to my hometown to see her on weekends. Every Friday after work, while my coworkers were going out to party without me, I was on the road for 200 miles to see her. Every Sunday night she would cry and ask me to stay. But I had to be back in Memphis, 200 miles the other way.
It got to the point that My Cat would freak out every time he saw my bag. "Don't leave me here all alone for 2 whole days" he would scream, in a way only a Maine Coon cat can do. After I was gone he would pee on something. "Yeah, take that!"
Finally we got married. Our wedding was in a chapel on top of a mountain that overlooked my hometown. Her entire family came. My entire family came, plus my adopted family, the Kings. It was a great wedding. No, we didn't smash cake in each other's faces, but I did nearly blow my own head off popping the cork on the champaign bottle.
We were both so socially inept that when the Kings threw us a wedding shower we weren't sure what to do. I think we annoyed the heck out of them, but it was a great shower. Thank God for the Kings, the greatest people I ever knew!
Once we were married we moved her up to Memphis, stopping so she could pee several times on the side of the highway in the pouring rain at 2 a.m. She said she'd never again drink Coca Cola while traveling. We hit every bathroom and even made our own. Good thing it was a large moving truck so no one could see her there watering the shoulder of the highway.
We lived in a nice apartment for a year, sandwiched between a drunken painter below us and a drunken woman who loved sex at 2 a.m. and throwing furniture while screaming shortly after the sex. The more she drank the harder she stomped. If she wasn't shaking the walls with sex then she was shaking the ceiling with stomping feet and flying furniture. Her boyfriend had to be a fast mover to survive her. She was out of control and wore on My Wife's last nerve pretty quickly.
Eventually we bought a house and moved in.
She wanted a fireplace in the living room and a kitchen she could use. I wanted a 2 car garage with plenty of storage space and all brick. We both got what we wanted.
Just now she sent me an email. Here is what it says:
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'’S DAY! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
It scrolls on for page after page.
I sent her back something similar.
Last night we sat together under a blanket and watched "Vertigo", an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Right now I wish we were still sitting there. I don't want to be at work. I want to be home with her. It's Valentine's Day. It should be a holiday. I want to see her.
Anyway, to all of you who still come by and read what I write, "Happy Valentine's Day" and I hope you have a good one!
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