I am not a fan of Valentine's
Day. I am not fond of forced, outward displays of affection and love. I'm not
so fond of private displays of affection and love either. So the fact that I
have to buy a card, flowers, candy, and dinner to show how much I am in love,
just sucks. My dogs know I love them without celebrating it on a certain day
each year. Why can't a human be as good or better than a dog? Just know that
the fact you aren't in a kennel, in some shelter, or weren't gassed a long time
ago, means that I probably don't hate you. If you have a place to sleep in my
bed, I don't hate you. If I acquiesce to your nagging once in awhile, I don't
hate you. Luckily for me, this year Mark gets it. I didn't buy any crap for
him, I didn't take him out to dinner, and he wasn't pissed. I got a free pass.
Of course the fact that Mark has been ill for the last week and feels like
shit, might account for the lack of his Valentine's Day expectations. Even if
Mark had wanted a whole, big "I Love You" celebration, I have a get
out of jail free card. It was on February 14th, 1988, that I had my first chemo
treatment for cancer. I vividly remember being wheeled back into my hospital
room after the treatment, and being overwhelmed with nausea. I projectile
vomited across the room, hitting the wall near the sink about five feet away.
That was the first of twelve weekly trips to the hospital for my chemo. So now,
every Valentine's Day, I can pretend that just the thought of all that
Valentine's Day hoopla brings back those horrible memories.
"So Dear, can't we just
forget about it this year? I'll take you out to dinner some other time. It'll