Things I Used to Love: Valentine's Day

A small sample of the Valentine's Day provisions at my local Target.

Since it's February 13, I figured there was only one appropriate topic for this week's Thing I Used to Love: Valentine's Day. My love for this holiday has prompted several displays of affection over the years, ranging from sweet to downright ridiculous.

To be clear, I embraced Valentine's Day with the objective of celebrating love. Not romantic love, necessarily, but love for my family, friends, and important people in my life. As Julie from The Real World: New Orleans (the one from 2000) once said, "You don't need a lover on Valentine's Day, you just gotta have love!" I couldn't agree more.

In high school, I wanted to show appreciation for the special people in my life, and take some of the focus away from being part of a couple on this day. If the world can assign one day a year to make people feel particularly bad about being single, I wanted to do the opposite: to make sure people felt loved, regardless of whether they were in a relationship. So I sent roses to my girlfriends and baked cookies to hand out to all of my pals. I was also a tad, uh, snarky in high school, so I would often give cookies to people I felt I had wronged. My senior year, I gave some to a younger boy I'd been arguing with a lot as a token of apology. I'm not sure he took it that way, as he avoided me for the rest of the semester as if I had confessed my undying love for him, but oh well. Better he felt love than hate, I guess.

In college, I had a huge crush on someone we'll call Movie Theater Boy. He seemed like kind of a lone wolf, and – at a small college where everyone eats together and has specific areas of the cafeteria where they always sit – I admired his ability to be content alone. I enlisted my friend Mo, who worked in the mailroom, to send him a anonymous valentine: a box of candy (generic in nature; a heart-shaped box would've revealed too much) with a note that simply said "Happy Valentine's Day!" I don't think he ever knew it was me – and no relationship ever developed – but I'm glad I sent it, just in case he wasn't as content with being alone as he seemed.

Once I transferred to CU, I left Movie Theater Boy behind and focused on building friendships. So in the days leading up to February 14, I made lots of goodies and shipped them to about a dozen friends, topped with a note with my favorite quote from Love Actually:

"Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion that you'll find love actually is all around."

Fast-forward to 2007: T. Bob and I had been together for nearly a year, and I knew I wanted to do something special. As a broke 22-year-old, a traditional romantic gesture like a trip to Paris or even a fancy night on the town wasn't really in the cards. So I focused on something smaller that I knew he would like.

T. Bob with his truckload of grape juice.

I waited until he left for work one day, then went to his house and filled the bed of his Blazer with grape juice, his drink of choice. He loved the surprise and enjoyed that grape juice for a solid six months.

Now that I'm more mature (or just old and married?), the societal pressure around Valentine's Day seems to have faded. I still try to find special little ways to let my friends and family know that I care about them, I just don't feel compelled to do it on February 14. But if you are feeling particularly lovey-dovey tomorrow, consider doing something special for someone to show them that you care. I promise you won't regret it.