Love is just a four-letter word.
— Joan Baez
By the time this is posted, I will be in the air on my way to Houston to visit my BFF Aimee, her husband Tim, and their new giant baby, Ben. I haven’t seen Aimee since just before she and Tim moved to Texas in September, and I miss her a ton. I’m so looking forward to meeting baby Ben; I can’t believe he’s five weeks old and I’ve never held him. I am staying until Monday, so hopefully he and I will have plenty of time to get acquainted, Aimee and I will will have plenty of time to catch up, and maybe I can even give them a chance to get out of the house together without the little one. Oh, also on tap: dinner on Friday with J.
Valentine’s Day has been my least favorite holiday since my freshman year in high school. For several weeks prior to that day that year, I had been talking to a guy, Jason, and it seemed we were headed toward dating. Then Valentine’s Day came, and with it came the deluge of flowers and candy delivered to the office which were announced over the PA system all freaking day (“The following students have deliveries waiting for them in the main office: not Melanie.”). Even if your boyfriend went to our school, he was still supposed to have the stuff delivered to the office, not bring it to you at your locker that morning – half the appeal was having your name announced so that everyone knew you were part of a couple.
Now, I may have mentioned that I was a bit of a dork in high school, and all that stuff made me uncomfortable. I never expected Jason to get me anything, and I didn’t want him to think I did, and the easiest way to convey that, I thought, was to avoid him that day. So I did. In defense of my stupidity, however, he avoided me, too. And that was the end of that (except for the inevitable part where I spent the next, oh, two years “in love” with him, lamenting my missed opportunity). And that’s the story of how Melanie came to hate Valentine’s Day.
Those of you who do celebrate, however, I hope you have a wonderful day. Those of you who, like me, are sometimes convinced that it is your destiny to end up the neighborhood spinster-cat-lady, well, for you I found this. I’m partial to the “Dejected” version – “peaked at 17” killed me.
P.S. The one bright spot about Valentine’s Day this year: pitchers and catchers report today, which means baseball season is just around the corner! (I get my baseball info from Bugs and Cranks, and you can follow your team there, too!)