My funny Valentine

There is one person on this earth to whom I can give full credit for restoring my faith in Valentine's Day: my wonderful hubby, Glen.

I know that, for many of you, Valentine's Day seems to be only commercial enterprise, geared specifically to tug at the emotional heartstrings of women and to induce gut-wrenching guilt in men. And, in many respects, I'd agree with you completely. Valentine's Day, like most of the other major holidays observed across the nation, has indeed become enormously profitable for Hallmark, FTD, and national jewelry store chains.

But I am an incredibly lucky woman to be married to a man who takes Valentine's Day to heart - not just for us as a couple, but for our whole family.

Let me give you a bit of background. Glen is, by all measures, incredibly romantic. I am one of the lucky few women who can attest to having a romantic spouse without pause or hesitation. This guy is a pro. He's kind, thoughtful, and just plain nice. He has a track record of giving me flowers once a month - WITHOUT FAIL - since January 1995. That's 16 years, and counting. I attribute much of this to the additional fact that he's a bit stubborn, but that's okay. His stubbornness has also found him sustaining a track record of exercising, in one way or another, each day for over two years now.

But one of the many reasons I am so grateful for my wonderful Glen - and believe me, there are lots and lots of reasons for my marital gratitude - is that he is the one person who successfully restored my faith in both Valentine's Day and in the larger concept of romance.

Many of you know that I attended Scripps College, a small liberal arts women's college here in Claremont. I lived in the residence halls all four years. Valentine's Day proved to be enormously stressful for so many people in the dorms. There was an unspoken competition to see whose names would be on the cards affixed to the multiple floral bouquets delivered to the residence hall's front desk each year. Women would tentatively peer into the arrangements, holding their breath in the hope that their name would be on one of the small enclosure cards. The lucky ones would whoop in triumph and take their blossoms to their rooms. The others would sigh, and hope that more flower deliveries would be coming soon.

I freely admit to being one of those women who'd hold out hope that one of the bouquets was for me. My dating history prior to Glen was extremely limited, but I did date a bit during my college years. Each Valentine's Day, my stomach would be in complete knots with the uncertainty of whether or not the holiday would be fun and yield me bragging rights among my dorm-mates, or whether it'd turn out to be a bust.

With the exception of one year, it was always a complete and utter bust. And on the one year when flowers arrived with my name on them, the relationship ended two days later ... before the flowers had even wilted.

Then, Glen came along. Glen and I met in a class at Scripps - Intro to Law - and were study buddies throughout the semester. I was struck by his Harvey Mudd smarts; he was apparently impressed by the detailed notes I took in class. He claims he sat down next to me because he thought I was cute; it was also the case that the chair he chose was the only empty one in the room.

By the time Glen and I became smitten with each other, I'd long graduated from Scripps and was living on my own in San Diego. He came into town to visit high school friends, and to also get off campus to avoid running into the new beau of his former girlfriend. I offered to let him stay with me in my two-bedroom apartment. We ended up chatting and smooching (and nothing else!) until about 2:00 a.m. in the morning. So, when he accompanied me to a law school class the next day, he (understandably) fell fast asleep. I can't say that the Torts lecture was particularly engaging that day, but I got cranky at him for dozing off, and we ended the visit on a sour note.

Fast forward five days, and he called me. I was elated and slightly relieved to know that he didn't think I was as cranky as I thought I'd been. He asked to see me again, and when he came to call a couple of weeks later, the first thing he did was hand me a rose. I was weak at the knees.

Soon after, I'd withdrawn from law school (yeah!) and was figuring out my next move. Glen invited me up to the Harvey Mudd campus for their Valentine's Day party and dance which, conveniently enough, took place on February 14. We mooned at each other pretty much the whole night. It was official: the relationship was on!

Glen began his flower-giving streak to coincide with New Year's Eve 1994/New Year's Day 1995. By this time, we were engaged. He didn't need to give me another reason to fall and stay madly in love with him, but this was just another example of what a tender, sweet and truly thoughtful person he is. When Glen and my mom and I began exploring florists to do the flowers for our wedding, he'd contact potential vendors and have them send me a dozen roses to my apartment so that 1) we could see their work, and 2) I could swoon, again. The most incredible arrangement came from David Mark at Designs by David, and it was David who ended up doing the amazing flowers for our beautiful wedding.

Glen has never ceased to amaze me. Unlike many guys, he doesn't consider Valentine's Day to be a stressful exercise in futility. Now, years ago, he and I made a pact to not exchange flowers on Valentine's Day: it's too expensive and, as such, really not worth it. But it's Glen who has helped me to become and stay so happy and content and secure; being able to let go of that particular expectation has enabled me to enjoy and cherish this holiday even more. And Glen is masterful at making Valentine's Day special for all of us: he always makes plans - grand or small - for a family celebration that is special and meaningful. This year, he took us to the fabulous House of Big Fish and Ice Cold Beer in Laguna Beach, and our table was perched perfectly next to a wall of windows that overlooked a magnificent sunset. The kids played happily with their new Lego sets (sent from Meme and Pepe), and Glen and I took tons of photos to capture our family silliness. Tonight we will attempt to make fried chicken using a recipe kit sold by Williams-Sonoma and inspired by Thomas Keller's restaurant, Ad Hoc. We'll end the evening with some molten chocolate cake; David will get a new Lego set, and Elizabeth will get a new Barbie doll (Skipper, to be precise).

Life is good, my friends. Love the ones you're with. Cherish every moment. I do ... and I have one helluva guy to thank. He makes my life amazing, he has my back, and he's my hero.