“He loves me...”

“Soooooo,” cooed one of my dear, recently “involved,” friends, “what did you get for Valentine’s Day?”
From experience, I know that relationship neophytes are never really interested in an answer. Their polite query is for the sole purpose of giving a breathless report of what their “wonderful, new, man” gave to them on the Big Day.
“You start.” I replied.
“Well, I just couldn’t believe it. First, three dozen red roses. Then a copy of “Leaves of Grass,” (I can never think of this classic anymore without thinking of the Lewinsky scandal. Thanks, Monica.) and he booked a room for the whole weekend at The Grove Park Inn – we’re going to have a spa, dinner, the works!”
Awww. Don’t you find it sweet when people are in the blush of new love? When everything is heady and dreamy; when they haven’t heard for the twenty-seventh time that his mother wasn’t demonstratively affectionate, resulting in a difficulty of intimacy for you? Before the object of love is discovered to have bodily functions? It’s nice. A little obnoxious for the rest of us, but nice for them. I don’t begrudge them a bit.
I stand with a lot of people who have been in a relationship for so long that we vaguely recall (or was this a movie we recently saw?) feeling giddy seeing a flashing message on the answering machine or being amazed that someone is really interested in our life story – at least the first time the tale is told.
Like many of you, I don’t need a Hallmark Holiday to manipulate my fella into bringing home a box of chocolates like a cat at the front stoop with a dead mouse. It’s the same expression, really: “This is for you. You do want it, don’t you?” But he does. He’s a good man. And he’s a good man every day. I’ll take that hands-down over a weekend at The Grove Park Inn.
I will say, however, that this time I was armed and ready to reply after my friend finished her litany of gooey items.
“That’s nice.” I said. “Paul filled up the dually for me and then we drove to Clemson after he got off work to pick up a load of Timothy hay that was only $8.00 a bale and so, even with the price of gas, we still saved about $150.00 compared to buying it at the feed store.”
My friend could only work her mouth wordlessly.
Take that, Cupid.