I went to breakfast with sweet Mr. D today. It was nice. I gifted him one of my beadations, which looked marvelous and regal and very suitable on him. It was a nice moment, and that's more that happens on most Valentine's Days for me. But I left the breakfast table somewhat unsatisfied. When I got home, I questioned myself throughly - What's the matter? Why am I feeling funky? What was I expecting? Is it just the crappy weather and the tedious winter routine or is it something else?
I turned on the news this morning and there was some fluff coverage of both Valentine's Day activities and Anti-Valentine's Day activities. One of the Anti activities was a bunch of people who met at a gym, taped pictures of their ex on a punching bag, and then angerly punched the picture. Whoa! Though cathartic for some people, it's not my thing!
At worst, Valentine's Day is stupid and processed. At best, it is ultra-romantic and/or just a reason to show someone in your life that you care. And while the tradition may dictate the sharing of feelings, tonight I decided to treat myself to a Valentine's dinner. I decided that in spite of my funky mood, I would enjoy some time to myself. So I took my time and extra care making steak tacos and opened a bottle of wine. I've been listening to Maxwell and looking at these beautiful red and yellow roses from Mr. D. And I feel confident that, rather than rage at some man in the past that did me wrong, I'd prefer to treat myself to some extra lovin'.
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