How do I love thee? asked Elizabeth Barrett Browning in her famous love sonnet. Let me count the ways.


I’m not sure when I last enumerated my love for PC, but with Valentine’s Day on the cusp, this seems an excellent time to follow Ms. Browning’s example.


1. Holding my purse as I pop into the Ladies’.

2. Accompanying me shoe shopping.
3. Watching figure skating and Project Runway.
4. Listening as I repeat a story without dropping a single detail.
5. Yielding to “Yes, dear” as the best response.
6. Living with my moods.
7. Holding hands without my seeking yours first.


M-m-m-m, my love list appears short on romance, as promoted by Valentine’s Day anyway



If we’re honest with ourselves, Valentine’s Day is a girl thing. It’s a shame we don’t just send flowers to one another, squeal delight and be done with it.

In the bigger picture of a long-term relationship, requesting proof-of-love on a specific day isn’t a big deal, but it is lopsided when the day is Valentine’s, and the men do the giving and women the receiving.

My prince charming and I have been together thirty-seven years, and

surely proof-of-love is holding my purse as I pop into the Ladies’, accompanying me shoe shopping, watching figure skating and Project Runway, listening as I repeat a story without dropping a single detail, yielding to “Yes, dear” as the best response, living with my moods, and holding hands without my seeking his first.




..early on, he delivered this message: he was in my life to make me happy, and should I require proof of his love on a particular day, to just let him know. In declining the offer, I’ve been flowerless for thirty-seven Valentine’s. But that doesn’t mean living without proof of his love.


It’s here – Heart Hell…the last day of Valentine floral deliveries to public workplaces.
There’s no escape as the delivery guy walks toward your desk, then past your desk to the desk of a co-worker, and hands her the vase filled with long-stem roses. Bad enough if it only ended there, but wait! there’s a second part to Heart Hell – enduring her squeal of triumph. Triumph, as in victory, that she scored an expensive bouquet as proof-of-love on the romance day of the year.
Or so she leads us to believe. In actuality, she likely laid it out to her fella that there better be a flower delivery to her desk top by noon or no sex. For a very long time.
For all the hype of romance, it’s the currency of nookie that’ll guarantee a Valentine floral delivery because guys know we mean it when we say no and long time in the same sentence.
If we’re honest with ourselves, Valentine’s Day is a girl thing. It’s a shame we don’t just send flowers to one another and be done with it.
My prince charming and I have been together thirty-seven years, and the currency card has been played now and again, but never for flowers on Valentine’s Day.
For surely proof-of-love is holding my purse as I pop into the Ladies’, accompanying me shoe shopping, watching figure skating and Project Runway, listening as I repeat a story without dropping a single detail, yielding to “Yes, dear” as the best response, living with my moods, and holding hands without my seeking his first.

For all the hype of romance, it’s the currency of nookie that’ll guarantee a Valentine floral delivery because guys know we mean it when we say no sex and long time in the same sentence.




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