Yesterday in our office, our help desk manager announced to the developers at large that he felt he was lucky because his fiancee had told him flat out that she didn’t expect anything special for Valentine’s Day. He felt he was off the hook. The other developers, who are all married, nodded at his innocence and looked sadly at each other. I felt I had to say something, so I peered over the cubicle wall and looked him straight in the eye. "Based on past experience," I told him, "if your girlfriend or lover or fiancee or wife tells you, ‘I don’t want anything special for Valentine’s Day’, what she really means is this: ‘If you don’t do something special for Valentine’s Day, you’re going to be emasculated.’"

Having said that, I have to confess that I have been, on the whole, very fortunate. Most of my life, I haven’t had anyone to celebrate Valentine’s Day with. Sometimes I was okay with that, sometimes it depressed the heck out of me. For those years when there was someone with me on Valentine’s Day, I was usually quite fortunate to have someone who meant it when she said that she didn’t want a big deal made out of the holiday. In fact, I’ve only ever had one girlfriend who said to me, "Let’s not do anything special, Valentine’s Day makes me sick", and who subsequently gave me no end of grief when I took her word for it. (Actually, I didn’t; we went to dinner that night, but because we were both very poor she suggested that we split the tab. We did, and that was what I got the grief for: taking her at her word when she said she wanted to split the tab. Go figure.)

On the whole, Valentine’s Day has never really meant all that much to me. The first time I had a girlfriend on Valentine’s Day, I wrote her a short story and she gave me a big box of chocolates; and I think that was the last time I really did anything all that special on a Valentine’s Day (two days later, that girlfriend and I broke up; maybe it just wasn’t a very good short story). In subsequent years, I’d gone out to dinner and a movie with friends, or with myself. I remember one year I went to a vegetarian restaurant with a housemate that I had a big crush on; naturally, she didn’t quite feel the same way about me, and The English Patient is not necessarily a great date movie, but I suppose we both still had a good time.

Of course, there was also that year when, in an attempt to break myself out of a "it’s-Valentine’s-Day-and-I’m-alone" depression, I decided to take myself out to dinner and a movie… and fell down the stairs from my apartment, breaking a toe. But we won’t go into that one.

It is important, though, to do something special on Valentine’s Day. Not that there is anything special or magical about February 14; but it’s important to take some time and make it special with the people that you love. In the past, I’ve always thought that doing something special meant going out to dinner at a nice restaurant, maybe seeing a movie, going out of my way to be incredibly "romantic" and charming and so on. To be honest, just the idea always kind of wore me out.

But this year was different. Because we both have such hectic work schedules (even when we’re both in the same state), it’s frequently much easier for us to meet at a restaurant for dinner on the way home from our respective jobs, or grab something at a drive through, or go out for dinner after we’ve both been at home for half an hour or so and are both too exhausted to do anything about cooking. So, going out for dinner is not really a special event for us. But my boss had given me a bonus to do something nice for Jennifer for Valentine’s Day (the job may be insane and the working hours outrageous, but my boss is terrific), so we celebrated in our own way: by having dinner at home. We had sliced cheese, fruit, and home made pretzels that Jennifer had baked. We ate at the dining room table — an unusual situation in itself, since when we do get to eat at home we’re usually eating in the computer room or at the coffee table in the living room! — with candles for lighting and her cats to serenade us. Jennifer had put more planning into our Valentine’s Day dinner than I had, and I really appreciated it. Jennifer has a way of letting me know how she feels for me without saying a word, and I’ve never doubted her feelings.

In some ways, being with Jennifer is very unusual for me. Jennifer comes with no ambiguity. I’ve always known where I stand with her; there have been times when I wasn’t sure if she was upset with me or just tired after a long day, but if I ask her and she tells me, "I’m just tired," I know that’s what it is. I’ve always appreciated that sort of honesty and openness (though I was once told that my appreciation of such honesty was really just a cover-up for my own laziness and unwillingness to put forth any effort in a relationship — not, thankfully, by Jennifer, of course).

Jennifer enhances everything in my life. I tend to be a bit of a loner, and I value my privacy and my solitude. But I have never preferred solitude to having Jennifer in the same room with me. When other girlfriends have left for a few days, I’ve always breathed a sigh of relief to have some time with myself. But Jennifer is almost like a part of myself; I breathe a sigh of relief when she comes home.

Frequently, I find that I just don’t have the words to express the way I feel for Jennifer. When I try, my tongue gets crowded up in my mouth or my fingers stumble over my keyboard.
Fortunately, though, sometimes Jennifer is able to say just the right things for me. And when she writes like this, how can I possibly doubt how she feels about me?