isn't it romantic?

Love grows on trees at Park Avenue and 91st Street. Does anyone truly like Valentine's Day? 

If you don't have a valentine, it's just one long, miserable day of Everyone Is Having More Fun Than You. If you're in a relationship, the day is still fraught: Will he remember? And if he does, will he give you something ghastly, like an "I Wuv You" teddy bear? Worse, what if you give him one of those gag gifts meant to convey "on second thought, let's just be friends," and he produces an engagement ring? 

My husband, too, had always been ambivalent about V-Day. So, naturally, when it came time to get married, the two of us hatched a devious plan: Let's tie the knot on February 14! Then, we figured, we'd have something genuine to celebrate on this most Hallmark of holidays, and neither of us would ever forget our anniversary. Brilliant, right? Well, sort of.  

It turns out that the year we married, February 14 fell on a Sunday. We wanted to get hitched at City Hall, which is only open on weekdays, so February 14 was out. We did a little asking around and were told that Wednesday, February 10 would be the least crowded day. So Wednesday it was. That's okay, we thought; it was close enough to Valentine's Day.

Then our families got wind of our plan to "elope" and refused to be left out. So on Saturday, February 13, three days after our real, legal City Hall wedding, we had a blessing ceremony at St. Michael's church in Connecticut—we called it The Show—for a few loved ones and friends. Now, years later, the question remains: Which is our real anniversary: February 10, February 13 or February 14?

This is not an idle question. Every year I plan for our anniversary on February 14, only to have my husband wake me on February 10 with something lovely, like breakfast in bed and a card, wishing me happy anniversary, and there I am sheepishly trying to explain that I don't have anything for him yet. Last year, I wised up and got his gift and card ready for the 10th, but this time he was empty-handed, thinking we were going to celebrate on the 14th. Cue the wacky sitcom miscommunication:

She: "But you said..."

He: "But I thought..."

Together [slapping foreheads simultaneously]:"Oh, no!"

This year, to make matters more confusing, we chose to have our anniversary dinner last Saturday, February 6. This time, though, I decided to feel things out:

She: "Just to clarify, do you foresee any sort of exchange of cards or tokens on February 6?"

He: "I hadn't thought about it." 

She: "So when do you envision a possible exchange?"

He: "What do you mean?"

She: "Well, do you see it on February 10, or February 13, or Valentine's Day?"

He: "I have an idea. Why don't you just have everything ready, so when I spring it on you, you'll be prepared?"

That, dear reader, is what I have done. The card has been chosen. The gift has been purchased. I am all ready for Cupid, whether he should materialize tomorrow, Saturday or Sunday. 

Ain't love grand? 

Comments

[Ann Leary]

Your story reminds me of the Valentine's Day that I cut off all my long beautiful hair so that I could afford a gold chain for Denis's most prized possession - his gold pocket watch. Little did I know that he had pawned the watch in order to buy me a beautiful comb for my lustrous (and now missing) locks! After we got over the shock, we laughed and laughed, because we had come to a deeper understanding of our love. You see, it turned out that Denis digs chicks in crew cuts and we found a very inventive use for the chain, which is too indelicate to detail here. The End.

[Lauren Lipton]

Sister, you slay me.