Expectations of a Young Couple's First Valentine's Day

Take a moment to picture yourself at the supremely old age of seven. Now remember yourself at seven years old on Valentines Day. Even from such a young age, the idea of cards and candy go hand and hand with hearts and all things red, pink and white.

Maybe you had the school teacher who made all of the kids bring Valentine's for every other kid in class, so that no one was left out. Or maybe you had the teacher that was less Socialist and instead some kids only got a few while others received a whole bag full of adoration from their peers. Perhaps you even had the broken-hearted bitter teacher who wouldn't allow a heart-shaped chocolate or cartoon-card anywhere near her classroom.

I'm convinced I must know someone who fell into this last category because it is the only conceivable way that my boyfriend at nineteen could have made it to that age without realizing that Valentines Day is in fact the Ultimate card-giving holiday. That, and perhaps never entering a supermarket during the month of February.

At the time, he and I had been dating for nearly six months and our relationship had reached the level of "serious", as I had just moved states to be with him the week before "the big day". As a young girl in love, I naturally fantasized about overt gestures of romance and expressions of passion. All the while he, who had never been in a relationship before, was nervous about proper protocol, keeping in mind that at nineteen, a man didn't dare ask another man for romantic advice.

Naturally, I made no plans, gave no hints, and did nothing to woo him, since I apparently envisioned myself as the princess of the day. When he arrived to my place after work, I answered the door with my heart in a flutter, anxiously awaiting my bouquet of roses. He wore jeans, not a tux. No string quartet stood behind him. I was not swept into a carriage. There was no life sized teddy bear. Instead, he stood on my doorstep with nothing but a grocery bag.

I was baffled as he came in and set the bag on my kitchen counter and unease started creeping through me thinking that perhaps he had nothing planned at all. Never one for diplomacy, I asked what our plans were to which he said that he'd considered taking me to the Botanic Gardens. Thanks be to the internet, he discovered a few minutes later that the gardens had already closed for the evening. Strike two. Unless he was a magician with an invisible top hat, the obvious lack of flowers had been strike one.

Returning to the kitchen, he revealed his mystery groceries. No redeeming dinner elements, not even a box of chocolates, but instead a box of Kellogg's Rice Krispies and a bag of marshmallows. His next plan was to make Rice Krispies Treats, which left me utterly confused. There are no movie scenes or poems about this. How was I to react? Instead of recognizing the adorable factor, I got a bit perturbed and asked if that's it, his entire grand plan, pointing out the flaw that we didn't have any dinner plans. Strike three; but I wasn't ready to call him Out.

With the evening plans rapidly crumbling, I thought that perhaps the card exchange would help turn the night around. I handed over the card and ivy plant that I had thoughtfully picked out for him and his expression was one of...surprise. As he accepted the card, he uttered the statement that will lovingly haunt him forever. With an air of confusion, he said, "I didn't know it was a card kind-of holiday."

I'm sure that my mouth must have fallen open in a most attractive way while the steam escaped from my exploding head. Could those words have really been said? More so, could they really have been meant? Shock was followed by disappointment and irritation hot on its heels.

My ensuing grand idea was to take a trip to the most romantic of all places, the spot where chaos is King, the Super Walmart, to buy a board game and salvage our 'big night in'. Of course, as we entered the store there was a huge flower display which gave me cause to secretly hope that he would steal away and manage to buy me the elusive bouquet. Instead we left with Rummikub.

After making delicious marshmallowy-rice-krispy-goodness and playing our game, he then started preparing to leave. At this point, it was too much. I had to speak my mind. In a clearly dejected manner I redundantly asked if he had no intentions of spending the night. The same look of confusion crossed his face as when presented with the card, and he rapidly tried to assess why his girlfriend was on the verge of exploding. He carefully explained that he thought Valentines Night was the one night of the year that a guy definitely did NOT expect to get any action, as it was meant to be only a sweet and romantic occasion. I had to laugh as the entire Men-are-from-Mars, Women-are-from-Venus moment passed us by. With our relationship still in its infant stages, perhaps he had no idea that another level of romance and passion existed, one that went passed the physical hunger of "getting action" as he so romantically pointed out.

At the time, I felt abandoned by cupid and considered the day a complete bust.

Cliché though it may be, looking back on that first February 14^th together is one of my favorite early memories I have with the man who is now my husband. It took me a while to realize that it was both of us that had the wrong idea that day. While he should have been more clued in to customs and expectations, I was wrong to think that the day had to be perfectly planned with commercial-inspired gestures. The idea to make Rice Krispies Treats was so original and fun that it has been our tradition every year since. I've made a point to plan special things for him, and he has made a point to always have a card ready.

Six years later and we still plan to celebrate this Hallmark-invented holiday. Just yesterday while we were out, I commented on a black coat of his that he had left at home. His response was "You mean my blue one?" I then described in detail the black coat, which I had purchased, which in turn he insisted was dark blue. We made a bet with a wager that the loser had to plan Valentine's Day this year. When we got home and looked at the coat hanging in the closet, he sighed and said, "You know I have less than two weeks."