My Funny Valentine

I don’t get Valentine’s Day.

I mean, I understand the premise, but it almost feels like a post script to me, or an, ’Oh, by the way.’

We shouldn’t have to be reminded by mass media, local florists, or chocolatiers, to remember how much we care for our significant other.

How many guys, or girls, rush out to CVS, Walmart, or Hallmark, to buy 50 of the same cards to give to 50 different people? Where is the joy and spontaneity in spending five or six dollars to let somebody else tell you how you feel?

Instead of spending $50 or $60 on a bouquet of flowers, try spending 50 or 60 minutes hand selecting them from your garden (or your neighbors garden), and personalizing the experience with the knowledge of what makes their stomach twist and turn, trembling and leaving them in knots.

What a lasting memory.

Instead of pulling the heart shaped box off the top shelf at the local convenience store, go to a bakery and request an extra large slice of dessert that was just pulled fresh from the oven (they love this shit-the bakers AND your mate).

Any day.

Just because.

Even if you didn’t do it yesterday.

It’s never too late, and it matters.

Play their favorite song.

Create the breakfast or meal that makes their mouth water.

Grab them by the hand, and dance. It doesn’t matter if you know how.

Trust me.

Don’t get me wrong, I think for those that lead busy, strenuous, lives, or others who aren’t necessarily romantic 365 days a year, it’s more than likely the thought that is appreciated by their partner.

That’s fair, and it counts that they remembered, regardless of the source.

I choose to love my better half with this intensity every day.

Not because a date on the calendar reminds that I have to, or the advertisement blitzkrieg swirling around in my head awakens my consciousness of commitment, but, rather, just because.

I write her love letters every day to remind her she’s beautiful.

I can’t wait to fall asleep at night so that I can wake up next to her in the morning and smile at the good fortune that’s been bestowed on me, so wildly undeserved-and the fact that I am blessed to spend another day with the most perfect person in the world for me.

It hasn’t always been this way and, reality is, for most people it is not.

It took a lot of mistakes, learning, consequences, and pain, for me to figure it all out.

I’m still a work in progress.

Now, when I look into her eyes, however, there’s never a doubt, and the words come as easy as drawing a breath of fresh air at the base of a snow capped mountain.

Her smile makes me weak in the knees.

Her nervous, insecure nature, make me smile and blush in return.

There’s nothing I’d rather do every day of my life, than climb out of bed, put on a pot of coffee, place some fresh fruit and bagels in the middle of our quaint little table in the breakfast nook and sit with my best friend for hours, and laugh real life back into our bodies.

It’s these moments I’ve come to cherish, through my personal selfish and tragic circumstances.

It’s these moments I never want to lose, or to slip from the clutches of my heart.

It’s these moments, I require-for my spirit, as she is the primary nutrient of my soul.

She is my life blood.

She’s the reason I am.

I would be completely lost without her by my side.

You know this. I have proclaimed this truth on countless occasions to all those who choose to read my words.

If you can manage the time, pick up a pen and a piece of paper and write your own love letter.

When you do it two, three, four times in a row, it becomes a habit and you stop counting.

It becomes a part of who you are, and makes you want to dive into every day with a renewed spirit of life, and love, that never ends.

And it’s fun to remember why they are your “Why.”

So, this is my letter and promise to you, every day, my love.

My one and only.

My Funny Valentine.

🫶

D