When I was in high school, I hated Valentine's Day. Every Valentine's Day the school office would get flooded with bouquets of flowers for dumb little teenage girls from their even dumber little teenage boyfriends. Then to make matters worse, throughout the day notes from the office would filter through classes informing those dorky girls of their treasure waiting with the secretaries.
Do I even need to say that I was never one of those pathetic teens?
My senior year I finally had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day. Only I was on a stupid school trip and wasn't even around for the flower flood.
This Valentine memory has scarred me. It's tough enough having to live through all of the commercials and television shows but to be mocked year after year is really more than a girl needs.
This is how I have lived virtually every love holiday...until last year.
Last Valentine's Day I was mindlessly typing at my desk when a call came from the office. There was something for me at the front desk. I went, very unsuspecting, and found the loveliest arrangement of orange roses waiting with a tiny florist card from the Jazz Guy. I took them to my office and cried. I felt so special.
This year I am finding myself waiting for another message from the office.