Love in a Tank of Gas

Happy Valentines Day, everyone! I’m not sure I know how to feel about this holiday anymore. I love me some pink and red decorations. And I will never say no to chocolates. At the same time, hello Hallmark holiday. And then, again at the same time, hasn’t it become a cliché to call it a Hallmark holiday?

Oh dear, it seems that Hope has gone all cross-eyed again.

And she’s talking about herself in the third person again.

It might be time for an intervention.

Another one.

What’s this? Like the third one this week?

*Takes a deep breath.*

Ok, what were we talking about? Oh, yes, Valentines Day. I love that reminder to take some time to tell people that you love them. I mean, I tell Kristian that I love him when he gets home from work. But do those sorts of “I love you’s” ever really sink in? At a certain point, it’s like saying “bless you” after someone sneezes. It’s just something you say. So, I am torn. Because I am reading on people’s blogs and twitters and facebooks and whatnots about all of the lovely things that they are doing for the people that they care about. And it warms my heart. But, at the same time, holy shit pressure.

I haven’t seen Kristian since early Saturday morning. I went down to CT this weekend to help my grandmother take care of my grandfather, who is recovering from major surgery. At Kristian’s suggestion, I stayed the whole weekend and I even stayed over last night, driving straight to work this morning. I had some ideas for nice things to do for Kristian, but none of them was possible long distance. So, I did exactly nothing. And he’s totally fine with it. He’s allegedly making me a nice dinner tonight, but only if he’s up for it (he’s not feeling well). And I’m totally fine with it.

I’m not going to lie, there is a part of me that wants to get a giant bouquet of flowers at work (especially since my office mate got one). There is a part of me that wants champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. There is a part of me that wants a little blue box.

That part of me? Is pretty much outvoted by the part of me that knows it’s a waste of money to pay the marked up prices for “romance” on Valentines Day. It’s a no-brainer, really. Especially when you consider the fact that Kristian buys me flowers “just because,” and that he buys me flowers when he knows I’ve had a tough day. That he tells me that he loves me all of the damn time in so many small ways. Take my trip to CT, for example. Kristian cleaned the car out, he washed the windows, he filled the gas tank. He made sure that I was as safe and as comfortable as possible for my trip. I look at that needle pointing to F and all I can see is “I love you.”

That’s what you do when you love someone. You look out for them.

I’ve had guys that sent me a dozen roses. I’ve had a guy that planned a big day full of surprises, candlelight dinners, etc. I’ve had champagne and chocolates. I’d trade it all in for the guy who checks my car for me before a road trip. Because, when it comes down to it, that’s really how we show people that we love them. In all of the little things that we do from day to day. When I do Kristian’s most hated chores, I’m telling him I love him. When he notices me limping and takes my heavy bag for me, he’s telling me that he loves me. When I notice how tired he is and volunteer to take the dog for her evening constitutional, I’m telling him that I love him. We tell each other “I love you” a thousand times a day without saying a word.

You know you really love someone when, in the course of talking about spending the rest of your lives together, you tell them that you have dibs on dying first.

(I so totally have dibs. And I’m holding him to it).

So, Happy Valentines Day, Kristian. If I have to share my snuggie with anyone, I hope that it’s with you.