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Eight Days Later It's not that we aren't romantic... I’ve never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. For a long time I had no one to celebrate it with and the only loving gifts I received were from my mother. My first girlfriend lived miles and miles away and sent me a Looney Tunes pop-up card which I still have in a box somewhere. Now that I have a partner, a loving lady gay with whom I could celebrate the capitalistic day of love, one might expect that we bequeath one another flowers or candy or at least a passionate romp in the boudoir.
Truth be told, there is nary a rose nor a sugar-filled treat to be seen in our household. If memory serves me correctly, we celebrated last year with a bath and a Tylenol PM before heading off to dream land.
It’s not that we aren’t romantic. There’s nothing more that we enjoy than letting one another know how much we are in love. It is just too much to celebrate this one day and turn around and celebrate it all over again eight days later.
The anniversary.
This February 22nd marks three years since I took my darling lady out to dinner for Thai food and a fancy dessert, failing to seduce her until the following week. We celebrate that moment and the Valentine’s Day past all wrapped up into one. On that day, we will have flowers. There will be chocolate. There will be more than one frenzied romp in the boudoir. Lastly, there will be one special gift for that lady of mine, a DVD: Harold and Maude. It’s a love story like no other, as unique and gorgeous as our very own.
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