I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY FOIL-WRAPPED HEART
I have always had a love-hate relationship with Valentine’s Day. There were a lot of years when I didn’t manage to be in possession of a boyfriend on February 14. You’ve all had that experience, right? All around you there are smug, happy couples gleefully feeding one another truffles from heart-shaped boxes when you are headed home to eat canned soup and watch a rerun of Hill Street Blues, or worse, Three’s Company.
Now that I’ve been married for nearly 10 years, V-Day presents a different problem. It’s “Oh god, is it Valentine’s Day AGAIN? I’d better do something sweet and romantic for my spouse. Right after I get this load of laundry started.”
Actually, every year since our very first February together, I have written Technogeek a love letter. In it I talk about what we’ve done together for the last year, and express my continuing love and hopes for many more V-Days to come. He seems to like the letters, and besides, I can’t buy him chocolate, he’s on the Atkins diet. Also, it has always seemed wrong to buy flowers for a man unless somebody died.
The problem is, as I get older and we’ve been together practically forever, it becomes more and more difficult to remember what happened in the last year. They blur together. And sometimes, the things I remember weren’t all that fun. Did we scrub the mold off the bathroom ceiling together this year, or last?
And so, like all middle-aged people with children, I resort to talking about the kids. Their achievements are also ours, after all. I should get some credit for all those hours of guiding, encouraging, worrying, fussing, disciplining, congratulating and wisdom-dispensing, shouldn’t I?
I guess I’ll be writing these letters for many years to come. I wonder what I will find to say after the kids have grown and moved out? Hopefully something like this: “Our European tour was a delightful sojourn. Can’t wait to spend next winter in the Caribbean with you. And please remind me to have Ramon air out the summer house in Belize before we arrive. You know how forgetful I can be.”
EDIT: for the record, I wasn’t really listening to The Captain and Tenille. The title just went well with the post. I was really listening to Tony Orlando and Dawn. It was a 70’s kind of night.