Hallmark Day (or the one known as Valentine's Day)

I think that one of the reasons my hubby and I get on so well is that we both hate Valentine’s Day.

Hate is a mild word. “Loathe” would be more accurate.
We wouldn’t “celebrate” it at all, if it weren’t for our kids and the little parties they have at school. 

All the hearts and pink and money money money that goes into this particular holiday makes me throw up a little.



I’m not a big fan of flowers. It’s a sweet sentiment, but they’re going to die in two days. That’s money well spent. If you want to show me that you love me, go do the freaking dishes or something.

Candy? Okay, I dig chocolate as much as the next chick. I can get that any time, though. I would still prefer you do the dishes. I don’t need that stuff on HallMark Lovey-Gooey Day.

The way I see it is: If you love me, show it year ’round. One day of the year isn’t going to cut it.

I remember our first VDay together (vaguely – that was like a thousand and six years ago).
It went something like:
Hubby: Do I have to get you flowers?
Me: Why? What did you do?
Hubby: For stupid Valentine’s Day, I mean
Me: Why? What did you do?

We show our love in other ways. Like telling him I’ll eat his face if he ticks me off but I love him anyway, or him telling me he loves me even when I’m a raging beast monster. We laugh together, we watch our fave shows (currently Doctor Who & Game of Thrones & The Daily Show) together. We get each other – he has this jacked up sense of humour sometimes which makes me laugh like mad. I’m completely awesome which makes him lucky. Wait — Is that what I meant to say? Well, I already typed it, I don’t want to have to backspace, so..

We’ve been married for 17 years, and every day that we’ve been together, he has told me that he loves me. Even when we’re angry and throwing words or chairs or small churches at each other, he tells me every day that he loves me. I don’t need a holiday to know that I’m loved – he says it in a thousand and one ways (and not all of them end with ‘take your crazy pills”!)

I don’t need flowers, or expensive candy (just bring me a gorrum kit-kat) or $38 cards with lame poetry. (I like his lame poetry way better ^_^). If he wants to buy me a new car, however – well, I could probably force myself to be okay with that. (Just kidding, my little honey bunches of oats. No pressure <3)

Hubby – “Why do you call me tolerant?”
Me – “Well, I am a little crazy sometimes”
Hubby – “Why do you say sometimes?”


(<-From the internet. Some place.)