Almost an entire year has gone by, and many mistakes have been made. Don’t lose faith! There’s still time to fix everything.
Okay, perhaps “fixing everything” that has gone wrong with your love relationship is a bit much for one columnist to accomplish. But maybe I can keep you from making additional mistakes around the most important love day of the year — Valentines Day.
Just how do I know what mistakes to avoid? Trust me, I’ve made most every one possible.
Yes, Dear Reader, Valentine’s Day is only 10 short days away so consider this your survival guide. Why write a Valentine’s Day column 10 days early? You can never be too early when it comes to the affairs of the heart – or making those all-important dinner reservations. (If you haven’t made them by now, that’s your first mistake.)
So put down the newspaper, phone, or tablet and make that reservation. And don’t worry, I’ll wait right here ‘till you get back.
My first lesson occurred where I learned most of my lessons about life, Old Mrs. Crabtree’s third-grade class at Mt. Olive Elementary School.
Way back then, there was a cost for the profession of one’s love – a nickel. In my case, it was a bunch of nickels, 30 to be exact – my lunchtime milk money for an entire month.
Before my three brothers, The Sister, and I climbed aboard Mr. Walter P. Holcomb’s big yellow school bus in the morning, Mom gave each of us three things: a brown bag full of a healthy lunch, a nickel for milk, and a mom hug.
The hug we accepted and cherished, the healthy lunch we traded for not-so-healthy lunch items, and the nickel we almost always saved.
Being only in the third grade, money was hard to come by, and over time those nickels really added up.
A couple times a month, Mom would give us a $1.50 so we could buy a school lunch — which I never did. So by Valentine’s Day that year I was almost as rich as Preston Weston III, and Candi Samples was about to have the best Valentine’s Day ever! Or so I thought.
Love Ambassadors is what they were called. Teachers selected two students from each grade level to go around to all the classrooms, and for a nickel they would hand out handmade Valentine cards to your beloved. Each card was adorned with candy hearts and Red Hots and was either signed by the sender or left anonymous.
I figured if one card was sweet, then 30 sent throughout the day would show Candi just how much I loved her. My plan was to sign the last card so she would know they all were from me. Unfortunately, my love plan didn’t go as planned.
The last card was to be signed and delivered just before the school bell rang for the end of the day. How was I to know that day Candi had a dentist appointment? She checked out an hour early and never got the last card.
Good thing, too, because by then she was wondering who her stalker was. That day I learned you can’t plan love and that money can’t buy love. But sure it can keep you from drinking milk during lunch for an entire month.
While attending Briarwood High School, home of the Mighty Buccaneers, I learned another lesson: love hurts. In my case, love sent me to the hospital. Most everyone who lived on Flamingo and attended Briarwood walked to and from school. Now I’m not gonna say I walked both ways uphill, barefooted, and in the snow like my Dad did while he was in school, but there was snow on the ground the day I fell out of the tree. And yes, I lost my shoes.
I thought swinging out of a tree right in front of the girl I wanted to take to the senior prom would impress her. It did, but not in the way I planned. You see, the vine broke, I fell, my leg also broke, and I never got to my high school prom.
The lessons learned? No way Tarzan swung through the jungle using vines. That, and showing off for the girl you love doing something dangerous usually ends badly.
This year I think I finally know what to do. While The Wife is at work, I’m gonna clean the house, do all the laundry, and have a home-cooked meal ready when she walks through the door.
You see, I’ve learned through the years a fancy dinner out, cards, candy or even swinging from a tree isn’t what she really wants. For some unexplained reason, all she wants is to spend time with me.
Yes, I don’t understand it either. Must be true love and, in my case, I’m glad love is blind. For a handsome man, I am not.
[Rick Ryckeley has been writing stories since 2001. To read more of Rick’s stories, visit his blog: storiesbyrick.wordpress.com.]
