Happy Valentine's Day... Stupid Cupid.

Drumroll please..... It's Valentine's Day. February 14th. I remember those days well sitting in elementary school counting out cartoon valentines at the end of the day to see how many I got. Junior high and high school got the carnation sales and the anticipation of seeing flowers delivered every period. Strange, how college was a bit of a blur and I can't recall the rites for that stage of romance...(blush).  Your twenties alternate between being preparing furiously to celebrate an uber-romantic evening with the love of your night or wearning all black and having a sassy girls' night out in defiance of the whole tradition.

I learned gradually as I got older to drastically lower my expectations of Valentine's Day. Single or not, somehow, it always lead to disappointment. I was never swept off my feet. Flowers never showed at my workplace (Or was it I managed to avoid being on the schedule so as to not vomit on a colleague's roses?). There were no surprise-cooked-just-for-me candlelit dinners. Lowering one's expectations worked well. I could enjoy a splash of color in the ol' wardrobe again and perhaps even hum a chorus or two of  "My Funny Valentine" walking by two twenty-somethings on their way to the last dinner of their relationship.

2007.  I may have been single on February 14th that year, but I was certainly looking forward to February 18th. I had a blind date scheduled. Meeting a gentleman at nice cozy tavern in Fells Point known for it's simple good food. I was terrified. The girl would be showing up with the green headband. Yeah, I know. Cliched at it's finest.  It was fun dinner, full of great conversation and laughter. He was tall, handsome, smart and gave me butterflies like no other. Clearly there had to be a catch. Especially when I ended the date early for my 4 am alarm for work the next day. I hoped, but had no idea if I would ever see him again. (yeah, you men are weird like that...).

2011. He's still here, snoring next to me on a nightly basis. I call him my dear husband. We have three gorgeous boys. We may bicker over who is going clean the cat box, change the next dirty diaper, put gasoline in the cars or fold the laundry; but he's my funny Valentine and we do it together. See what lowering your expectations for awhile can do? Land you the lottery.

Stupid Cupid, always picking on me.