Happy Valentine’s whatever

Four days before Valentine’s Day. I sigh as I type the date this column will appear. Why am I not as excited as I used to be? I remember when we were in high school, how hard we tried not to show anxiety when February came around. Would we receive Valentine cards, flowers or gifts from boys? I remember one Valentine’s Day, when I was a senior in high school, a guy who had a crush on me sent me a letter declaring his undying love. I let my classmates read it. He felt so insulted. Really I didn’t mean him any harm. I suspect now that maybe I was just showing my classmates that it wasn’t just a love letter you wanted to receive. You wanted to receive a love letter from someone you loved. Since I didn’t feel the same way, I thought nothing of passing his letter around. I can write this because I know he passed away many years ago. So no more danger of causing him any further humiliation. But I thank God every day that I have grown up and grown old.

 After high school, Valentine’s Day was still meaningful. How delighted we were to receive a dozen red roses whose fragrance first scented our rooms. We didn’t want to throw them away. We changed their water, cut off little pieces at the ends of their long stems, pricking our fingers painfully on their thorns, putting 1/4 aspirin or 1/2 Aspilet to keep them alive longer, following our mother’s advice. Finally acquainting ourselves with the smell of rotting red roses, stronger than their original fragrance, because we didn’t want to be parted from the flowers our love of the moment had sent.

 In our 20s we still cared for Valentine’s Day but by this time we wanted to receive flowers from our husbands — I had two in my 20s but lost them in my 30s. Then we had to be brought out to fancy dinners and dancing — the whole romantic thing. Romance was almost an obsession in our 20s. And also in our 30s. I remember one Valentine’s Day when I was 29 or 30 when my husband and I went for dinner at the Top of the Hilton. He ordered champagne and when I wasn’t looking put a necklace with a single diamond heart into my champagne glass. Then he toasted me and when I drank I felt a strange thing on my tongue.

 Now 40 years later, what happened to that necklace? It was stolen from me by a maid, someone I thought was the most faithful housecleaner in my life. But she stole so much from me. I never suspected her. She proved to me that diamonds were not my best friend. They were her best friends.

 I learned through my life that the most passionate years for a woman are in her 30s. Think back to your 30s and how you felt. I’m sure even if you kept it secret you dreamt of going out with your love on Valentine’s Day. If you were married, that was easy. Your husband had to celebrate Valentine’s Day with you. It was his obligation. If you were not married but were being wooed by a married man (common for working women in their 30s) then you either had a date on Feb. 13 or Feb. 15. If the 13th, that meant you were special. If the 15th, that meant you were being held in reserve. The 14th was for the single man in love with you whom you really didn’t like that much. On the average you would have at least one date over Valentine’s. If you were attractive you would have at least two dates. If you had three, you were a real winner among women.

 When the 40s come around, Valentine’s Day begins to lose its romance. Or it begins to be a family thing if you have children. By then they are grown up and civilized so you can take them out. Also some of them are in their teens and you don’t want them out with the boys they have crushes on. As a mother you aren’t accustomed to the annoying habits of children in puberty yet. You haven’t come to accept that, little by little, they’re trying to break away from you.

 When you’re in your 50s, you have learned that parents have limited control over their children. You can’t get them to go with you anywhere. Valentine’s Day changes meaning for you. Romance is gone from your life. If your husband sends you flowers he probably left permanent instructions with his secretary to send you flowers on your birthday and on Valentine’s Day.

 When you’re in your 60s and 70s, Valentine’s Day is just another day in February. Even if you’re newly married and on your honeymoon. You look at each other, smile and say “Happy Valentine’s”... or whatever... maybe a kiss... no big deal.

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