Putting the V in Valentine's Day
I'm really not bitter about Valentine's Day. I'm really not. Valentine's Day is a day to celebrate love, and I LOVE love. I'm not in love, but I love a lot.
I just remembered this Valentine's Day story as I was driving back to Vermillion this afternoon in the treachery that is the SD interstate in February. When I thought of it, I literally laughed out loud at the thought /realization that maybe I really am under some sort of Valentine's Day curse. (See post on 2/12)
In my Valentine's Day experience, the worst possible place for a single, 21 year old woman to be on the day of love is, without a doubt, a sorority house. On this day, florists seem to make direct routes from floral shops to sorority houses bringing bouquets and balloons from boyfriends to girlfriends. I experienced this phenomenon for the three years that I lived in Theta, answering the door, greeting the deliverer, reading the card, and placing someone else's Valentine's gift on a table in the foyer. To add to the misery of single-hood in a sorority, I have allergies and was allergic to the garden of roses and daisies and lilies that filled the main floor of 725 E. Clark Street.
One particular Valentine's Day, my mom called me three times throughout the day asking if anyone had sent me flowers. Each time I said, "NO mom. No flowers for me". I became increasingly irritated by her rubbing in the fact that I was single for the 21st time on Valentine's Day. On the third time she called, I yelled at her. Yes, I yelled at my mom on Valentine's Day. "NO FLOWERS, MOM. NONE FOR ME. NO ONE SENT ME FLOWERS. I'M SINGLE. NO. FLOWERS." She became quiet. Then in a bewildered and cautious voice, she said, "Well.. your dad ordered you flowers this morning. I wonder why they didn't come.
The next day, we learned that either my dad had given the wrong final digit of his credit card number or the Hy-Vee florist had written it down incorrectly, but because of a one-number error, my Valentine's Day was flowerless per usual. (Numbers are always messing up my life).
My dad felt really bad about mixing up the numbers, and my mom for rubbing it in, and me for yelling at my mom. But now it's sort of a funny Valentine's Day memory. I really didn't want flowers anyway-- Allergies.
This Valentine's Day was much better. I spent the weekend with my mom and sister, and we shopped and watched movies and ate fried food. We saw the Sistas at mass this morning, which was a treat, I skyped with my Parisian pal EH, and I had a great workout with Kanye hollering about "Heartbreak" this afternoon. And the Olympics have been on. Life is good. Happy Valentine's Day. Love you.
I just remembered this Valentine's Day story as I was driving back to Vermillion this afternoon in the treachery that is the SD interstate in February. When I thought of it, I literally laughed out loud at the thought /realization that maybe I really am under some sort of Valentine's Day curse. (See post on 2/12)
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In my Valentine's Day experience, the worst possible place for a single, 21 year old woman to be on the day of love is, without a doubt, a sorority house. On this day, florists seem to make direct routes from floral shops to sorority houses bringing bouquets and balloons from boyfriends to girlfriends. I experienced this phenomenon for the three years that I lived in Theta, answering the door, greeting the deliverer, reading the card, and placing someone else's Valentine's gift on a table in the foyer. To add to the misery of single-hood in a sorority, I have allergies and was allergic to the garden of roses and daisies and lilies that filled the main floor of 725 E. Clark Street.
One particular Valentine's Day, my mom called me three times throughout the day asking if anyone had sent me flowers. Each time I said, "NO mom. No flowers for me". I became increasingly irritated by her rubbing in the fact that I was single for the 21st time on Valentine's Day. On the third time she called, I yelled at her. Yes, I yelled at my mom on Valentine's Day. "NO FLOWERS, MOM. NONE FOR ME. NO ONE SENT ME FLOWERS. I'M SINGLE. NO. FLOWERS." She became quiet. Then in a bewildered and cautious voice, she said, "Well.. your dad ordered you flowers this morning. I wonder why they didn't come.
The next day, we learned that either my dad had given the wrong final digit of his credit card number or the Hy-Vee florist had written it down incorrectly, but because of a one-number error, my Valentine's Day was flowerless per usual. (Numbers are always messing up my life).
My dad felt really bad about mixing up the numbers, and my mom for rubbing it in, and me for yelling at my mom. But now it's sort of a funny Valentine's Day memory. I really didn't want flowers anyway-- Allergies.
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This Valentine's Day was much better. I spent the weekend with my mom and sister, and we shopped and watched movies and ate fried food. We saw the Sistas at mass this morning, which was a treat, I skyped with my Parisian pal EH, and I had a great workout with Kanye hollering about "Heartbreak" this afternoon. And the Olympics have been on. Life is good. Happy Valentine's Day. Love you.
I laughed for ten minutes when I read this last night. And then I got heart pangs.
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