Yesterday was not my first Valentine's Day. And yet, it was my first Valentine's Day. Know what I'm saying? It was the first year I'd ever actually had an honest-to-goodness valentine. I have always loved the day, for whatever reason. Don't lecture me about Hallmark-- I know, I know. I know it's all ridiculous, but I love it. I don't think I love it for its romance though; I might love it more for the pink and purple hearts everywhere.
But this year I got to experience the quintessential Valentine's Day. I'm the kind of girl who would be happy pulling on sweats, making grilled cheese, and popping in a new movie on Valentine's Day, but BF likes to pamper me. It began on Sunday. I had ruined his plan because I decided to have a five-day fever that meant I might or might not be at work on Monday. So just in case, he brought over my first gifts that were intended for my desk Monday morning: a dozen long-stemmed red roses and a box of candy (let's get this straight: not waxy chocolate bon-bons with finger indentations to see if it's a toffee or a nasty eggnog cream... Lindt Lindor truffles, only the best chocolate ever). As classic as hot dogs at a Sox game, evergreens on Christmas, and Lady Gaga having some sort of weird relationship with a food product/animal/shape/color.
Then on V-Day itself, he stopped in on my free period at work and brought me a teddy bear. Not just any teddy bear, a Vermont teddy bear resplendent in Captain James T. Kirk's uniform. That's right. I don't know if you know this, but BF is a Trekkie (but a cute one, not a creepy one). I loved it. So... while a teddy bear is classic Valentine's Day, his garb is decidedly... "us." After work, he came by my place and gave me one more gift: a framed DIY ancient-looking print of my favorite Psalm, in Hebrew. That's right folks: DIY. It was shocked and awed, in the best possible way. He then informed me that we were getting high-class carry out, and he proceded to pull a tablecloth, placemats, and candles from his backpack. This was BF's version of "cooking" for me; what girl doesn't love that?
As if that wasn't wonderful enough, he then cut up strawberries and put together little strawberry shortcake dessert, paired perfectly with our sparkling white grape juice. We finished our evening of classic V-Day activities by heading to the beach. Surprisingly, we were alone; two cold masses huddled in the sand, staring up at the impossibly bright moon and stars. I flung sand in his face unintentionally and later crunched sand in my teeth, but that's the price one pays for romance, isn't it?
And thus was my very first Valentine's Day. It didn't disappoint. But as I wrote, even grilled cheese and my sweats wouldn't disappoint, as long as I was with my valentine.
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