Un-Valentine's Day

I hate Valentine's Day.  I worked at a candy store that made bouquets out of candy.  A Valentine's gold mine, eh?  We saw pink and red and hearts and cherubs from the day after Christmas right up to February 14th.  After a month and a half, it felt like I would be vomiting pink for the rest of the year. 

I stopped celebrating after I was in 8th grade and I got a birthday present and then three days later I got a Valentine's Day present.  Poor bugger, thought I needed two presents because there was a "holiday" right afterward, and his wallet got the shaft.  Since then, I haven't celebrated Feb. 14th as anything but another day of the week and am pretty adamant about not making a big deal of it or even celebrating at all.  My Mom would get my sister and I cards and little stuffed white and red animals that she would set on our bedside tables as she left for work so that we could find them when we woke up.  But that is the extent of my Valentine's Day.

So last year I threatened Ryan that if he got me anything for Valentine's, we were over.  Harsh, no?  So the day passed and we celebrated my 21st birthday with a dinner out, nothing red or pink and no hearts or chocolate. 

This year, since Ryan left before my birthday AND Valentine's, and armed with the knowledge of my loathing for the holiday, I thought I was in the clear.  No presents, no fuss, no surprises (I hate surprises), *phew*.  Little did I know that I was wrong.  Oh, how wrong I was.  Tuesday, Feb 15th, I get a call at my internship wanting to know where in the hospital I am...well who wants to know?  They have a delivery for me.  This is what I got...

A dozen roses and a vase that came with a card wishing me a very happy un-Valentine's Day.


Yup, this one's a keeper.