Okay, so, confession time: I dislike Valentine’s Day. Probably because I spent way too many of them single (well, before I got married). Back then, I used to think of myself as a hopeless romantic. Sometime in the last decade I realized I was just hopeless.
Ironically, when I owned up to that, I met my now-husband. (I guess there’s something to be said for that be-true-to-yourself stuff, hey?) Also, Hubby’s a lot better at this romance stuff than I am. I mean, I actually FORGOT Valentine’s Day last year. He came home with a card and flowers and I looked at him and said, “Uh…what are the flowers for?” And he laughed and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”Um. Yeah.
What can I say? I’m romantically stunted. I read romance novels because it makes me feel warm and fuzzy to realize that not everyone is as inept as I am when it comes to love and romance.
Ahem. Anyway. I suppose I don’t really have to say that I am one of the few non-romantic females on the planet. And I probably really don’t have to say that the vast majority of females demand romance, particularly on days like Valentine’s Day. They want the chocolate, the roses, the candlelit dinner, the whatever else it is you’re supposed to have during a romantic evening out with your significant other.
Some of them even want marriage proposals–yes, on Valentine’s Day. (I know, right?)
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