Be Still My Heart

Valentine's Day is right around the corner. It's hard to miss since every store, from major department store, to grocery store, to convenience store is knee-deep in red foil wrapped, heart shaped bric-a-brac For the guys who rely on shrugging their shoulders and looking sheepishly with the excuse "I forgot" -- Forget about it. No one is buying that lameness anymore.

I don't know when we started doubling down on the expectations around Valentine's Day but I can certainly appreciate where the whole she-bang could be a man's worst nightmare. There's so much piled onto that one day, well…it's just a little nuts, don't you think?

The Globe and Mail had an interesting article today on the entire subject, illuminating how expectations can ruin an otherwise perfectly good evening. Couples finding themselves forced to perform some kind of uncomfortable mating ritual that's outside their normal back and forth communications. I can remember a few years ago watching a young man in a mid-scale restaurant, obviously uncomfortable and looking slightly panicked, like a man being strangled by his tie. That might have been the case actually. Just looking at him, he didn't strike me as the shirt and tie type. No, he was definitely the jeans and t-shirt kind of guy who was putting himself through the paces, trying to make this special night wonderful for his girlfriend. For the record, I don't think she was very comfortable either. I'm sure if it wasn't for the commercial pressure and ever advancing expectations, both of them would have been much more comfortable eating a pizza in bed, preceded and followed by wild, crazy, lose yourself in the moment, lovemaking.

Not that there's anything intrinsically wrong with "over the top", I hasten to add. Last year, I was wooed and seduced with every cliché in Casanova's playbook. Drinks in a nice lounge, dinner at one of the finest dining establishments in town, flowers – you name it. He even went to the lengths of having a girlfriend pack an overnight case for me, so the whole issue of toothbrush, contact case and cleaner, and make up remover was looked after. While we were dining, she delivered it to the hotel, delighted to be temporarily appointed his official co-conspirator. Instead of the "your place or mine" ritual, I was whisked upstairs to a suite where I spent the rest of the night sipping champagne and making love to the man who's turned out to be my dream Dom. When I murmured something about it all being too much, M. Suave whispered "When you look back on your life, I want to know that your memory of your best Valentine's Day ever was the one you spent with me." Yes, he really is that competitive.

Can I expect a repeat of it this year? In a word, No. Early last month, he was sitting at the breakfast nook, reviewing the paper while I was making dinner. We often have some of our best conversations there.

"I'd like to go to the World Pond Hockey Championships next month. Up in Plaster Rock."

"Sure, when is it?"

"Hmmmmmm" and I could tell he was dancing. "That would be the actual problem. It's February 11 to uhhhhhhhh.. the 14^th."

"Fourteenth, eh? That wouldn't be February the 14th, would it?" I couldn't resist the tease and he always falls for the bait. He got very serious, intensely looking at me, trying to get a read on me.

"Is that something that's going to upset you?"

I couldn't carry on any longer and just laughed. "Sure, I'll go visit Poppa and you can go freeze your butt off at an outdoor hockey rink all weekend. Serves you right, Mister."

We joked and talked about it a bit more and he really did understand that I don't consider this some huge sacrifice on my part. I'm not being noble about the effort. Last year, he gave me a fairy-tale Valentine's Day that really will last a lifetime. I think that it's only fair that this year be about him. Besides, if he doesn't go, who will cheer on the team from Egypt? No kidding – Egypt. Now, if the idea of a pond hockey team from Egypt doesn't give you pause to think, nothing's going to do it for you today.

I know there are some in this 'lifestyle' that would make the claim that he should have TOLD me he was going to the Championship and that it was just my job to accommodate his wishes. He could have taken that tactic but what would it have cost him had celebrating Valentine's Day with him been really important to me? It would have eroded my sense of security and trust that he'd take care of me. And, if he did go off for the weekend, knowing I was hurt or distressed by it, would he have enjoyed it? His mind would have been wrapped up, reviewing the decision to go and how to ease the consequences. I'd rather have him go with my blessings, so he can fully enjoy his time with his beloved hockey. Just perish the thought that I should have to join him...brrrrrr.

The other thing is we've matured as a couple since last Valentine's Day. He dropped a brick load of money on that evening, partly to impress me, mostly because he thought it would make me as deliriously happy as it did. Now, given the same choices, both of us would look at that kind of extravagance and think it's better put towards making an extra mortgage payment on the condo. Good grief, in a year, we've morphed into our parents!

Besides, the whole Pond Hockey Championship has its own unique themed gift-giving opportunities. He's getting a new toque and a full set of Stanfield's Polartherm winter underwear. I'll probably get a box of Ganong chocolates.

So that's Valentine's Day in our house: Ganong's chocolates, Stanfield's underwear and Pond Hockey. I ask you this -- Can it possibly get any more Canadian than that?

~~doll~~