Normally I don’t do Valentine’s Day – you know, manufactured holiday, card companies and overpriced dead plants, and oh! how loving and tender to receive gifts at a socially-prescribed time!
YOU WILL BE ROMANTIC, DAMMIT.
So, usually, I’m a skeptic and can’t be bothered.
And then my friend Heather did a little drive-by Valentine-ing.
She might have called me a two weeks ago to say “Yeah, so I think it is time for you to take down the Christmas wreath.”
She may have been right, but I didn’t take action fast enough (immediately) to suit her.
Next thing I knew, it was Sunday morning, I was making pancakes and I heard my front gate click and thump-thump-thump up the front stairs. And then nothing.
I opened the front door…and nothing. Except a shiny red heart wreath hanging on the door, and Heather waving from her car across the street.
My oldest daughter was wonderstruck. The shine, the sparkle, the heart.
And then it occurred to me: I’m all about love and romance and intimacy and sex. This is my religion and Valentine’s Day is my Christmas.
So we’ve spent some time making Valentines for all of our beloveds. Hearts and pretty frippery adorn our doors and windows. Our house is such a loving place.
And I’m not even bothered that for the first time in a million years (okay, since kindergarten) I don’t have a boyfriend to tell “don’t get me anything for Valentine’s Day because I don’t believe in it.”
That might be because I’m choosing the no man thing. I’m on a man-diet.
I’m using the word “man-diet” because I know diets, as systems of deprivation rather than as descriptions of what you eat, are temporary and doomed to failure. I’m so okay with failing at this diet. Eventually.
Anyway, this is my heads up! I’m doing Valentine’s Day but I’ve got no lover-lover-man! Which means all my real and daily loves can expect much love.
I’m all about the beauty buried in the minutiae of life. I don’t think romance is flowers and chocolates (in fact, I just think: waste of money).
Instead, I think – I know – love is when my sister picks up my girls from daycare because I’m stuck on a bridge for three hours. Love is when I’m tempted to put my need where it doesn’t belong and a friend says “call me, instead.” Love is my baby sleeping in the small of my back. Love is telling my boss that I quit and she cries (ok, we both did) because she’s sad to lose me but so damn proud of me. Love is “I’m proud of you.” Love is my friend knocking at my door and saying “give her to me” about my incessantly screaming two year old. Love is my brother-in-law changing the oil in my car. Love is making dinner together. Love is the lunches I pack every day for my children.
So: Valentine’s Day. I’m all about the love. The mundane kind.
Valentine’s Day already? Egad. If I had the sort of friend who showed up at my door wielding a shiny red heart wreath, I’d sure as hell feel differently about the entire thing. As it stands, I’ll leave it as appreciating “the beauty buried in the minutiae of life.”
Thanks for reminding me of mine.
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Jesus, woman, you bring it every time. Your words are spoken like the woman I dream of being. Not on a man-diet per se (I love my hubs something fierce), but loving love and seeing valentine’s day as an extension of love. Now I can’t wait for your next lovely words.
If I lived within driving distance of you, I would slip a handmade valentine under your door because I heart you so very much.
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Eros is found in the mundane, or not at all.
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Valentine’s day has always been my 3rd favorite holiday, coming in after Thanksgiving (lot’s of food–no gift stress) and July 4th (major fireworks fiend). I’ve always love the memory of the box of Whitman’s from my Dad, and those message hearts to play with.
I reworked my own Valentine giving after reading Julia Child’s biography (years ago–not the recent film)and discovered that she and Paul dropped the idea of Christmas cards (I think she was late one year getting them out)and switched to sending all their loved ones Valentines. The film was accurate–the first was a photo of Julia & Paul from a lovely claw-footed bath tub.
So every year I send Valentine cards to people I really do love. Especially the ones I don’t say it loud enough to through the rest of the year.
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I no longer equate ‘love’ with flowers and chocolate.
Still, there was a time. A guy from whom ALL I wanted were those unexpected roses – which, turns out, I had to ‘help’ him send because my work address was so complicated that when he tried the first time, the flower company called and said ‘we can’t find her!’ So there was no unexpected, no surprise. And ultimately no romance in the act although there was plenty of romance in the relationship.
(but point of order…chocolate is *never* a waste of time! Even if you have to ‘help’ get it.)
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OK woman: could this be any more perfect, beautiful, and timely? I heart you!!!
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Kelly, I finally feel like you hit on the real thing. Just as I was about to unsubscribe from your feed, getting sick of the sex sensationalism, then you literally answered my question that some true depth would emerge void of illusions. Good job. I’ll still be reading.
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kellydiels
replied:
on January 30th, 2010 at 12:09 pm
@Heidi, I really liked your comment today. I’ve been thinking about sex as a metaphor and money as a metaphor, and what both of them express, at their core, is a longing to be loved and belong.
Why do we want money, beyond survival? To buy status and prestige so we can get people to love us and protect those who do.
And maybe to create. That’s where the sex and art stuff comes in. I think the urge to create is essential, in all senses of the word.
Create and connect. That’s the heart.
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I am anti V-day and have been for decades. It is a fake holiday that is designed to create dissension, mistrust and unrest among the masses.
It is time for the million man march on Hallmark so that we can demand that that this cruel day be relegated to the dustbin of humanity.
Feh on being told when to be loving and romantic.
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love this – it seems in the vein of “if life hands you lemonade make lemons” – we’ve got a made up, Hallmark holiday that we can be all bitchy about or we can make effin lemondade – i’m all for lemonade this year – tho i usually abhor the holiday — “man diet” made me laugh – hard! me too, and like you – expect it to end in failure – grin.
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i love your vignettes of what love is. back in the day, i had a little note pad printed up that said “love is” at the top, the rest space for me to fill in with definitions cause sometimes real love gets all lost. but i’m gonna’ tell you what, sugar: i really love you and the way you sling words together. you’ll make a fine living at it – i just know you will – and i couldn’t be more proud of you. xo
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Valentines Day: because nothing says ‘I love you’ more than saturated fat and slutty lingerie.
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yeah, what wholly jeanne said. we get to choose our actions, regardless of what hallmark says we should do on a pre-prescribed day of love. by ixnaying v-day altogether, we lose out on a little love. not because we miss the day, but because we spend the time abhorring the day for what it’s become. rather than let it continue to be a “manufactured holiday, card companies and overpriced dead plants, and oh! how loving and tender to receive gifts at a socially-prescribed time!” make it your own. but i don’t have to tell you that…you got it, sister!
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In Fine Cleavage fashion, it is important to note that the adoption of paper valentines delivered by post made it possible for valentines to be delivered anonymously. This in turn led to more racy verse. SO perhaps you should invite Readers to post Valentines they would LIKE to send to their true love, but dare not?
Valentine’s Day is marked as “Single Awareness Day” by some detractors.
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Love is never mundane, but can be found in the mundane. Love is watching a five year old grin endlessly at her cousin who is passed out cold, and two toddlers school each other. I love the dull little moments that aren’t dull after all.
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I love this post and you are so right!
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