BECAUSE EVERYDAY IS VALENTINE DAY .....

A little late on my V day posting but when you are in love as they say V day is everyday... I asked my friend Fanta Solange Diallo who just got married last year to her Cap Verdean husband Walter to tell me what that day meant to her...

Here it comes again! V-day… no, not Victory Day, Valentine’s Day, the BIG romantic yearly holiday for all, where we all are supposed to be, represent, exude, or feel some kind of love…Whether single, paired up, tripled up (or any combination thereof), happy, not-so-happy, straight-up-in-a-pissy-mood,

black, yellow, white (or some combination thereof), you’re SUPPOSED to sense this cloud of LOOOOVE enveloping the world every year around February 14th…Of course, the constant TV ads, billboards, store promotions, and girlfriend chatter don’t do nothing to help, it is V-Day, and unless you live in Himalaya, you gonna hear about it…

No stranger to the hype, I spent most of my teenage and young adult years catering to it. Every year for the dreaded V-Day, I’d have my hair did, nails did, major shower-scrub-it-everywhere (I mean, EVERYWHERE)-one-of-a-kind body maintenance did, cause girlfriend had to look good, cause of course this whole thing had been invented for me, it was all about ME…Shoo, they should have called it Vanity Day, cause it was sure about self-love first…Certainly, with all the high standard preparations, came the high standard expectations: whoever I was dating then, you better have you some banging flowers, banging gifts (courtesy of VISA, Mastercard, or your daddy’s money), and ready to take me out somewhere special, cause we don’t play with V-Day…If I happened to be single, well, yeah, it did happen sometimes, the dating market was rough in the 90’s around Sacre Coeur III/Liberte VI, well, I still had to look good, actually I even had to look better cause then it was really ALL about ME…I know, you live, you learn, I was young then…

Then, approximately 10 years later, I went and stood in front of this old priest, my mama and my daddy, and the whole world, and vowed to spend the rest of my life with one man, ONE man, granted one beautiful black brother, but yeah, the same guy, forever…And here we are, firstt V-day as a married expecting couple! You know it ain’t about ME no more, right?
So here I am, staring at my computer screen, wondering, as an older (slightly older) and more mature woman, whose vanity has now started to elude and self-love gradually colored with a deeper sense of commitment: “What the hell am I gonna do NOW???”
Yes, the hair and the nails are still getting done, so is the big scrubbing-shaving-til-your-skin-drops shower ritual, yeah, cause we all know I love better when I look good…But then what? This is the man of my life, my hubby to whom I just gave the gift of my remaining years (and associated headaches!), what do I do to show him that I care in a special, romantic, non-commercial, non-selfish way (well, I better get my flowers though…) that’ll make a difference…We know we love each other, and it’s Valentine’s day every day, but just a little more special, cause we’re human and we like a good, formal occasion to feel special, bubbly, warm all over, and a little tipsy by the end of the night (which helps with the inhibitions and any unneeded piece of clothing, let’s keep it real…)

Don’t get me wrong, I got my basis covered, girlfriend got the not-so-catholic-schoolgirl lingerie, chocolates, and kinky card…even got a menu in mind in case I feel so loving I opt for the candlelit dinner, but you never know, so the option remains open….What else, I think, in my mind of overachiever, I loathe predictability and always long to outdo myself and surprise…hmmm….

Then it’s finally THE day, it’s a quiet, blue morning, we wake up to the chirpings of the birds outside…I point under his pillow, and he points to my shoe collection. I unwrap the lovely pearl necklace and earring set, and read the gentle words in his funny handwriting. He smiles at the kinky recipe book I got him, and chuckles at my rated PG-13 card: that’s my kind of romance, black, raw, uninhibited. I didn’t have time to put on the sexy lingerie or brush my teeth for that matter. Yet, in the air heavy with stinky breath, there was LUV, the real one, the one without the chocolates and the flowers, the one that knows it’s there to stay. No glamour, no lights, never had time to do my hair or nails (too damn cold and windy outside), just a man, a woman, a growing baby and some loud birds outside the window.

After all, it isn’t all about me, it’s better than that…It’s the stuff of every day, just a little more special so you can remember to cherish who you have, who you are and who you are becoming. So you know to thank God for the little things, right down to the stinky morning breath….(now please go on and brush your teeth…)

Love,
SD