Yesterday, ten-year-old Emma told me she thought Valentines Day was stupid because why do you just take one day to love people? SO perceptive, my child.
I thought about this for a quick moment. Because I am very wise, I told her it’s not just one day we love people, rather it’s one day we give them all kinds of shit to show our love. She seemed satisfied.
Okay, I didn’t say “shit” because I am mostly a good role model. In fact what I really said was that we love people all the time, but VD is a day to make sure we are letting them know just HOW much we love them.
I actually do love Valentines Day, but that is probably because I am married and have someone to give me stuff and love me back. Even when I did not have “someone,” I still liked the day. I never took it as a reason to wallow in loneliness, but rather a day to have fun with anyone I loved, be it a best friend, a dog or a stranger sitting at the bar in a nice hotel.
I remember one Valentine’s Day in particular, when I was ruthless and mean. I was in my twenties and in a sort of, kind of relationship with a guy named Russell. I lived with a group of girls at the time and behind his back everyone called him “Russell the Love Muscle” (RTLM). I still don’t know if he really had a love muscle, I never saw it.
The most redeeming thing about Russell was that he adored me. I wasn’t used to be adored. In fact, my boyfriend of seven years kept reminding me of that every time he broke up with me (okay I might have been two-timing just a bit). With Russell, I didn't even have to try. He just liked me for me. Problem was, I wasn’t that into him. I was into the “idea” of him. He took me out for nice dinners in his nice car and didn’t even try to get to second base.
On this particular Valentine’s Day, RTLM took me out for a nice dinner in Clyde’s in Georgetown, which is like the fanciest restaurant on the planet when you are in your twenties and poor. He sat across from me, gazing into my eyes, and I could tell he wanted this time together to mean something. He wanted it to be the springboard for a deep and lasting relationship. I, on the other hand, was excited to have glass of expensive wine and some shrimp cocktail, give this dude a quick peck on the cheek, and get home before Beverly Hills 90210 started.
It was then that RTLM pulled it out. No, he did not pull out the love muscle, thank God. He pulled out the early nineties symbol of love and romance: the MIX TAPE. He had decorated the plastic case with red velvet hearts. I quickly glanced at the play list: Unforgettable, One by U2, Melt with You – all the classics. But then I saw it – the song that didn’t fit with the others. HOT SAUCE by Thomas Dolby.
Cover me in your sauce, baby
Bury me in your sauce
Smother me in all your hot sauce woman
‘Til smoke come from your thighs.
It was then I knew what I had to do. The love muscle had to go. There would be no smoke coming from my thighs, no smothering of the love muscle with hot sauce.
And, just like that, over a white table cloth and chocolate mousse, I gave RTLM the “it’s-not-you-it’s-me” talk. I broke up with his ass. On Valentines Day. I went home and danced to “Hot Sauce” while watching Brandon and Kelly make out on 90210 and eating lasagna with my room-mate, Jenn. The perfect end to a non-romantic evening.
What’s your most memorable Valentine’s Day?
Any plans for tonight? We have a routine around here. I make the kids heart shaped waffles, bacon and yogurt parfaits. After they go to bed, Ken and I have a steak dinner and a nice bottle of wine in front of the Biggest Loser (thank God Valentines Day falls on Tuesday). How appropriate that Dolvett will be in his nice, tight, red Nike compression– HOT SAUCE.
Happy Valentines Day to my real honey, Ken. Love you.