Not Everything's Coming Up Roses
How is it that, on the very day meant for showering the most important people in our lives with a little extra love, we are at the same time holding these people to the wildest of expectations?
It was mid-January that I first started seeing the usual lineup of Instagram bloggers posing in front of their lush mirrors wearing the same white sweater with a giant red heart across the front or a slightly more subtle heather-gray cardigan with pink heart patches on the elbows. Throw pillows of the same design were delicately placed on their oversized white linen couches. I was overwhelmed, and suddenly became curious: Has decorating and dressing for Valentine’s Day as an adult always been a thing, or is it a recent trend pioneered by the abundance of lifestyle influencers on social media? And does anyone, outside of Instagram models, really have the time and place appropriate for this attire?
It only took until the first of February before I was LTKIT’ing a blush, off the shoulder sweater. Next came the nail appointment where I tried a sultry, dark pink (it is still winter after all), and to match, I decided I needed either a white or contrasting soft pink top that would complete my night-fit. In TJ Maxx, after finding both, I decided we would also need to celebrate Shane’s birthday the week before Valentine’s Day. It’d be a “love week.” I immediately went online and bought the preciously tiny, cubic zirconia studded “K” necklace I had been eying for a long time now and it would be just perfect with my new blush blazer and white scoop neck. I’d surprise him with it when I took off my coat at dinner.
I didn’t know I needed to inform him that I was going EXTRA this Valentine’s Day.
It was February 13th and I was on my way to an emergency nail-fix when I saw the first bouquet of flowers shared to an Instagram story. “Isn’t it tomorrow?” I thought to myself. I was confused when I saw a few more. Who are these men giving flowers the night before?
I woke up to the sickly sweet “Happy Valentine’s Day” text from Shane, with an abundance of heart emojis, and it only added to the pep that was already in my step. It was 8:30am and I was so ready. I took my morning calls, did my makeup a special kind of way, and got dressed in my perfectly falling blush sweater with a matching bralette, ripped jeans, and all white chucks. I had a Galentines day-date planned with a girlfriend to join her for a wedding makeup trial. After grabbing us our Starbucks, this day of Love had officially started!
The makeup trial was a blast- full of girl talks about weddings, makeup, and vacations. I came home to a sleeping Shane, who had a few hours off in between work and was on his midday nap. On the table waiting for me was a J. Pace Italian sub so the quiet would do just fine. It wasn’t until after he was back at work that it dawned on me, where are my flowers?
A few passive aggressive texts later, I pulled myself back into colorful spirits and got ready for our night out; I had put too much into this holiday to let the lack of flowers bring me down. I allowed myself ample enough time to get pretty at a relaxed pace. I wrote out his card and put together his gift. I cleaned the house. I cleaned my car for the drive to the restaurant. I even got dressed, loved my outfit, and changed back into comfies to enjoy a pre-dinner glass of wine.
Shane had to pick up a dead train and would be late. Good thing we had an 8:45 reservation.
Let me paint a quick picture of my Valentine’s past. A small variety pack of these Days fell between the years of my mom baking a heart shaped brownie with “LOVE” written in pink frosting and meeting my now husband, with three of them being the most memorable:
When: 2006; Senior year of high school
Where: Bishop Fenwick, third floor hallway
Valentine: GT
In typical Mean Girls fashion, our Catholic high school thought it best to stage a bootstraps-fundraiser on the young, rabid hearts of eighteen year-olds and for a measly dollar you could send a rose to “the love of your life” while they insecurely sat waiting in their homeroom. My longtime boyfriend had dumped me two weeks before so when his attempt to win me back was a dozen of these long-stem roses, I knew I needed to beat him to the punch. I didn’t see it myself, but I hear his face when he walked up to a pile of snapped stems and petals at the foot of his locker was quite the delight.When: College
Where: Nicole’s house
Valentine: My girlfriends
I assumed my usual position as last to show up to girls night and I walked in to six of my best girlfriends dancing to Backstreet Boys in our friend Nicole’s living room. This wasn’t the sway your hips, two-step while you pretend to mouth the words. It was the violently aggressive, Meredith Grey and Christina Yang, jumping up and down belting out “Backstreets Back.” If it were a thing yet, Amanda would have been twerking off the side of Nicole’s sectional. We brought (and drank) a bottle of wine each and lined them up on the counter next to a spread of slumber party snacks. I threw my bottle down, grabbed a cookie, and jumped into the living room dance floor. These were the only Valentine’s I EVER needed.When: 2011; post College
Where: Albany, NY
Valentine: Myself
I walked into a nail salon after a day of work and sat down in front a manicurist with a bottle of Lincoln Park After Dark. She asked why I wasn’t out for Valentine’s Day and I told her, “We celebrated it this past weekend and now my boyfriend is out tonight with his new girlfriend. Three coats please?” With nails matching the color of my heart, I took the resentment out on Express, Forever 21, and several pairs of shoes at Macys before returning to my solo apartment with a box of my favorite sushi. I polished an entire bottle of red wine that night and it was the single-most spoiled I had ever felt.
Enter Shane Keegan- the romantic.
Our first Valentine’s Day was only two months into dating. He was living in the basement of a buddy’s house in Stoneham and had asked the roommates to scatter. I showed up at our planned time to an entirely dark house. I walked up to the door and hearing nothing, I half expected it to not be answered. After a few minutes of doubt, he opened the door and was out of breath. I could hear John Legend’s “All of Me” playing from the kitchen but could see nothing behind him. He took me back to a candlelit kitchen. The table was set, champagne was chilling, and there was a bouquet of two dozen red roses with heart shaped balloons floating above it all. Reminder: John Legend was still playing.
It was perfect. Flawless.
You’d have no idea that the oven had broken half-way through cooking. You’d never guess he had to take a pan of lukewarm manicottis to his mothers to finish and had just plated dinner minutes before I knocked at the door.
We sat in the kitchen for hours that night and finished with chocolate dipped strawberries. I think this was when we knew we were in for something special.
Our Valentine’s Days since have certainly been less extravagant but still just as thoughtful and very full of love. So, forgive me if I was surprised that there weren’t any flowers by 8 o’clock at night this year.
We made a dinner reservation to our favorite restaurant that we hadn’t let ourselves indulge in since pre-wedding diets and my tickle-me-pink self was so ready.
Shane’s train kept him longer than expected. Dinner was rushed being that it was a later reservation only 45 minutes to close. His work kept calling him and he was texting coworkers throughout. We had a half hour between my surprise of a “K” on my chest and the chocolate cake to enjoy each other’s company for the first time that day. And just like that, we were driving home and this “holiday” was over. The lump in my throat grew unbearable and I turned to face the passenger-side window so he wouldn’t see the tears swelling in my eyes. There were still no flowers.
This isn’t meant to be a “woe is me” story. I’m not telling this to give Shane any more grief because trust me, he got an unreasonable amount of it that night. This is because, while I often brag about my husband to the extent that his guy friends will screenshot it as blackmail, we’re all still human and real life is messy. This is an “Instagram vs. Reality” story. Because is there any day of the year that Instagram differs more from reality than on Valentine’s Day?
This is the very real reminder to reel in those social media expectations and focus more on what this day is intended for- to simply love, instead.
Remember to:
Get a grip. Get a real, frikin grip. Don’t take it too seriously. Don’t get so hung up on the title of this day that it masks all the good in every other. Unexpected things may happen so don’t drive yourself crazy analyzing every move someone makes or doesn’t make. Don’t compare your day to anyone else; they’re only showing you what they want you to see, anyways. Don’t break your own heart. February 15th is only 24 hours away.
Valentine’s Day is a celebration of all love. Send your parents a text. Check in on your single brother and make sure to remind him he’s a real catch for whoever is lucky enough to scoop him up. Send a cute bitmoji to your girlfriends chat.
Whether you spend it alone, with friends, or with a significant other- show up for yourself, too. Self-love is the best love to celebrate. Use this day to do something, at least one thing, that makes YOU happy. Spoil your damn self. Be corny if you want to and wear something that gives you that extra boost of confidence, wear hoops or get out that highlighter, girl! Wake up ten minutes earlier so you can sit with a cup of coffee or spend a little more time on your morning routine. Go to Nordstrom on your way home from work and try on every shoe your little heart desires and if you can, splurge on that one pair that’ll make your heart skip a beat every time you wear it because you remember what night you bought them. Get your favorite meal from your favorite restaurant and take it home to eat in the baggiest sweatpants. Pair it with your favorite wine or dessert. Light a candle. Watch your shows. Do a mask or take a bubble bath. Go get a manicure and spill your heart out to the whole salon. Go dance it out with your girlfriends.
And maybe, just maybe, the men bringing flowers home to their special ladies on February 13th are really on to something.
