I know a man named Greg. He is a man who has been on Earth for a fair number of years; I’ll guess around 50. He is a nice, decent guy who has known his share of women. The best Valentine’s Day he ever had happened when he was a teenager.
Here’s how it goes.
He asked a girl that he really liked out on a date for Valentine’s Day. He saved his money to take her to the grooviest place in San Diego. He got a new suit.
A few hours before their date he was getting swank in said new suit. A bouquet of flowers that he had picked for her were in the refrigerator. Then he got a call.
It was his boss, demanding that he deliver some furniture. At that point in his life Greg was in no position to say no. He got in his work clothes and drove to his date’s house in the company’s work truck with the flowers. His date answered the door. Her name was Debbie and she was dressed to go out. He apologetically told her about his fix. She told him to wait in the truck.
A few minutes later she climbed into the truck’s passenger seat. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers. “Let’s go,” she said with a smile.
They drove up to Los Angeles and delivered the furniture. During the drive they talked, listened to Led Zeppelin and laughed a bunch.
When they got back to San Diego around two in the morning, they got some fast food and drove out to the beach. They sat on the tailgate, ate their delectable paper-bag feast and talked and laughed some more.
It was, hands down, Greg’s best Valentine’s Day ever. Why? It was an experience. It was a great, romantic experience filled with connection and happiness and laughter. And experienced by two people who enjoyed one another. Oh, and she did think the flowers were nice.
Now, I like a puffy teddy bear as much as the next guy, but would trade a herd of them for five minutes of a Debbie-and-Greg kind of date, the likes of which I truly hope you experience this Valentine’s Day.