SPT: Anni-Valentine's

Lots of people like to moan about how Valentine's Day is just a another greeting card holiday, and who could try to deny it with all those adorable perforated sheets of trading card sized love notes for grade schoolers to dump in shoe boxes while they eat cupcakes and conversation hearts. Like most things in America, it's about the sale rather than the sentiment.
I would probably ignore Valentine's Day altogether, I mean I like the candy and I certainly wouldn't turn down a Care Bear valentine or three, but I don't really expect it to be a romantic pinnacle of diamonds and rubies and fancy dinners. Except for eight years ago, it kind of was. See, I was a sixteen-years-old with a major, down and dirty, can't sleep at night because I'm thinking about a boy, crush. This infatuation haunted me in fits and spurts for an entire year until I got up the juevos to ask him to the "King of Hearts" dance (twenty minutes after dumping the guy I was making out with at the time, don't worry about him, his biggest heartbreak was that I broke his perfect never-been-dumped record). This dance occurred on Valentine's Day eight years ago.

See, I thought I'd just get the boy out of my system. Kiss him a little, and hang out until we got bored of each other. I'd always planned to be a swanky singleton who traveled the world with nothing to tether her to any one spot. Perhaps romancing a few folks along the way, perhaps not. Love of the bodice-busting kind has never been essential to me.
But something happened that night eight years ago, something that keeps on happening.

I don't really know how to describe it better than I found a missing piece that night. A piece I didn't even realize existed until right then and there. The best part about this piece is that he didn't finish my puzzle or "complete me," he just made things feel a better, smoother, and funnier.
Ryan and I have a peculiar relationship. Good evidence of this: We did the long distance thing on and off for many many years. We were able to pull together and pull away as necessary so we could both grow up and grow stronger. I always feel like I'm a relationship guru because of this one sustaining success, but I know that I'm lucky to have found someone who values his independence as much I value mine. I don't know how to explain this to boys and girls who are looking for "someone to marry" or "settle down with" because that sort of thinking has little to nothing to do with our happiness. We are two unsettled people, who happen to feel much better if we talk to each other at the end of the day.

Anyway, I know this is becoming a big mushfest. Which honestly I hate, I really do. But I just want to let everyone know that Valentine's Day isn't always about rhinestones and rubies. To me, it's all about my boy.

Of course, two years ago I was given the big honkin' purple ring I'd been lusting after at the antique store.
Oh, and one year ago I totally barfed up lamb, baklava, and red wine on the cul-de-sac in front of his parent's house and then spent the rest of the night similarly heaving into the toilet (ah, love!). Needless to say, it's always a night full of surprises!
I'll let you know if anything wicked weird happens to-nite...