Every Day

I think I may be the only girl in all of America who does not like Valentine’s Day. It just feels so contrived to me. I mean yes, I love flowers and chocolates and date nights etc, but it means so much more if it’s done not out of expectation but out of the desire to make a person happy.

It all appears so perfunctory to me; flowers, dinner out, chocolate. How about flowers on a Tuesday in April? Or a card in July, for no reason but to express love?

That means so much more than the obligated, box of chocolates in my opinion. In fact, you know what’s really sexy to me? A man who gets up at oh dark hundred every day, no matter how tired he is and goes to work for his family. A man who makes an effort to call his mom and keep in touch. A man who brings his daughters a flower on their birthdays. A man who tells me he loves me with great regularity and no prompting. A man who makes sure the family car is always running and who checks the locks everynight before he goes to bed because he knows I always forget.

I don’t need a special day once a year to know what a great thing I have. So while I appreciate the history behind St. Valentine, I don’t need my husband to bring me chocolates or flowers one day a year to show me how much me loves me. He shows me every day.