A Brief History of Valentine's Day

I hate Valentine's Day. I think it's a stupid, made-up holiday that
really does more harm than good. For years it made me miserable, as I was the girl who didn't get notes on her locker or have plans when all the roommates did. My parents always gave me presents, which was nice, but I always waited for the day when I'd be the girl who got red roses and could brag about a fabulous date with a fabulous guy the next day.
I was stupid.
The best Valentine's Day I ever celebrated was in 2003, when I lived in New York. Leighann, some of her grad school friends, and I went out to get some sangria at Panchitos. We spent several hours there, very few of which I remember, and stumbled home to call Caroline, fresh from a date with her future husband. The only male we spoke to all night was the waiter. It was great.
2004 brought my first ever Valentine's Day with a boyfriend. I was secretly excited, anticipating whatever surprise he'd bring with him/plan on his trip to visit me for the weekend. I was certain there'd be some sort of romantic surprise, even though (attempting to be a cool girlfriend) I'd assured him that I thought Valentine's Day was a stupid, made-up holiday. We spent the evening cooking tacos and watching Signs with my roommate.
By 2005 the boyfriend from 2004 had evolved into a fiance. I took the day off of work to surprise him with a day of hanging out. That year, the big day fell on a Monday. By the previous Friday evening, we were engaged in a weekend-long argument over the holiday. We went round and round having conversations like this:
Him: I don't understand why you're upset.
Me: Because you celebrated it with her.
Him: Well, yes, but
Me: Well, why did you want to celebrate it with her and not me?
Him: Um, maybe it was her idea to celebrate it in the first place? Besides, you told me you hate Valentine's Day.
Me: I do hate it. But you still celebrated it with her and not with me. Was it her idea?
Him: I don't remember. This conversation is stupid.
Me: So?
Him: I think it's a stupid holiday. So do you!
Me: I know, but you still celebrated it with her.
Him (sighing): I know that. It wasn't a big deal. She bought me a book I already owned.
Me: Well, what book was it? Why do you still have it?
etc, until we were exhausted and it was time to eat or sleep or something like that.
Eventually we made up, but not before this conversation, which occurred shortly after I told him I'd used one of my precious personal days.
Him: Well, do you want to go get breakfast or something?
Me: Is that what you do on Valentine's Day? Is that, like, your thing?
Him: What are you talking about?
Me: Well, that's what you did before. You know, with her.
Him: I did?
Me: That's what you told me.
Him: Okay. I don't really remember.
Me: Well, I don't really want to go to breakfast.
Him: Fine.
We ended up getting lunch and having a civil day together before he had to go to class, and I had to go to work at my other job.
In 2006, the fiance had evolved into a husband, and based on the previous two years, I decided I'd just ignore the whole thing. Pretend the stupid day didn't exist. Instead of trying to be the cool girlfriend, I was actually going to be the cool wife. I didn't mention it in the weeks leading up to the holiday. I didn't say anything as I painstakingly wrote out 19 individual Valentines signed, Love, Mrs. G. I didn't say anything as I got ready for work that morning. He grabbed my arm as I turned to walk out the bedroom door. "I got you a present," he said.
"Why?" I replied.
"Cause it's Valentine's Day," he reminded me.
"We don't do that. And I didn't get you anything."
"That's okay. It's nothing big. But I wanted to get you something," he said.
"Um, I have to go to work," and I sprinted out the door.
I spent the entire day freaking out, wondering what he could have possibly gotten me and debating with myself over stopping to get him a present. I eventually decided that I wouldn't stop because I didn't want to insult either of our intelligences. I got my present when I got home. He'd written me a letter. I'm a sucker for that sort of thing.
Last year, I wasn't going to let history repeat. My friends Katie and Jamiee and I had started getting together for semi-monthly dinners at each others houses on Wednesday evenings. One of our dinners happened to fall on the big day.
"Well, I can do dinner that night," I said cheerfully. "I ain't got plans." Katie and I looked at Jaimee, who was engaged.
"I can do the 14th as well," she said, and that settled it. When I got home, I told my husband of my plans. "I figured you wouldn't mind," I told him.
"Well, I guess I can change my plans to a different day," he said, a bit sulkily. Oh shit. What did I do?
I didn't cancel my plans with my friends. I'd been that girl too many times in the earlier stages of our relationship, and I'm still paying for it. We had a lovely dinner, and two days later, my husband surprised me with a home-cooked meal. That is, a meal that he cooked, completely on his own. He made pasta with chicken and red sauce, garlic bread, and salad. It was yummy, and, at least to my knowledge, the most complicated meal he's ever cooked, and the only meal he's cooked, by himself, for another person.
We had a conversation later that night about Valentine's Day. "I still think it's a stupid, made-up holiday," I told him. "But I feel bad that I didn't do anything for you."
"You don't have to do anything for me," he replied. "I can just do something for you."
I don't know what tomorrow holds. Keeping with the tradition of my parents, I had my husband get the baby some books as a Valentine's Day present. Then I told him to take the books back because a conversation I had with one of my students had me freaking out over my child growing into one who expects presents every V-Day. My retelling of the conversation with the student turned into a rant about about our materialistic culture which ended with me saying "You know, I really don't want to be the mean mom who writes 'no gifts, please,' on the birthday party invitations, but I really see no other way around it," and my husband reminding me that it's just two books, he's a baby, and to him, it's just going to be another day and another thing to put in his mouth.