A Love Story

You’ve already heard how I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day, but here’s a fond memory I associate with this illustrious Hallmark holiday…

I was 16. It was the day before Valentine’s Day. My boyfriend at the time was my “first love” we dated off and on since 8th grade. I think we might have exchanged cards that year. I wasn’t even mushy then. Anyhow, I was at a girlfriend’s house. A few of us were just hanging out, smoking and doing whatever 16 year old girls do. Then, Frank drove up in his teal Camaro. We went to the same school, we had mutual friends, but we never officially met. This was the first time we were introduced. I previously thought he was kinda loud and a bit obnoxious – my impression from seeing him in the halls at school. But he seemed nice enough. A friend abruptly decided she wanted to get Valentine’s Day cards to exchange with friends, so we piled into a couple cars and went to the Party Store nearby, Frank followed. We putzed around the store while she looked for her cards. Frank and I were near a bin of fake flowers, the little fabric ones that you twist tie on wedding favors or whatever. He picked one from the bin and presented it to me. It was very sweet. We left the store empty handed and went on to Jewel, a grocery store.

It was getting late, I had to get the mini-van back home to mom, and part of the deal for me to take it out in the first place was to bring home a gallon of milk. Jewel was the perfect last stop. We met over there, again, Frank followed. I bought my milk, and while the others were searching for valentine’s cards, he carried my milk and walked me out to my mom’s mini-van. That’s it, that's how he wooed me.

There were very few days between then and April Fool’s Day that we spent apart. The day before Valentine’s Day marks the time that our relationship began to blossom… the day he carried my milk.